


Shared Psychosis

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Anorexia Nervosa, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Drug Addiction, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Health Issues, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 80,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7550221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a dramatic increase in Tweek's anxiety, his friends finally take the plunge and bring him to a psychiatric hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Patient Intake Form

“You boys did the right thing bringing in your friend, and I want you all to know that Mr. Tweak is in an environment where he can thrive and grow. This could not have happened without your help.”

Token stared down at his hands, stony-faced and silent. He didn’t have to look around the room to know that everyone else would be wearing a similar expression – that expression that clearly read _I don’t feel like I was being that helpful at the time_. For a few seconds, the silence in the room was only broken by Clyde’s sniffling and the clock ticking on Dr. Victoria’s wall, then Jimmy finally asked the question that had been on everyone’s mind.

“Wuh-wuh-would it ha-have been better if we gah-gah-got him here sooner?”

Dr. Victoria smiled at him. It was the kind of smile given to children when they’d done something wrong, but the adult didn’t want to ruin their blissful innocence by explaining how. “Well, by your descriptions, Mr. Tweak was symptomatic at a very young age,” she began diplomatically. “It’s very difficult to tell how far he would be in the recovery process if we’d seen him ten, five or even two years ago. There are a lot of variables that would need to be considered.”

Token’s lip twisted down. That meant that, yes, they should have gotten him here ten years ago. He hadn’t fucking known. That was who Tweek was; it was his _charm_. Everyone got ripped on for something. He was too rich (and too full of himself to think of anything else his friends would have ripped on him for). Craig was a dick _and_ a dork. Clyde was a pussy who killed his mom and didn’t shit right. Jimmy made bad jokes, plus he had a stutter and crutches. He knew they made fun of sensitive subjects, but he really thought Tweek had just been a spaz. He didn’t realize he’d spent ten years making fun of a very serious and degenerative anxiety disorder.

“When can we come see him?” Clyde sniffed out tearfully.

Craig glared at him for a second as if to tell him to get his tears under control, but he nodded in agreement. “And how often?”

Now Dr. Victoria just gave him the usual smile adults gave children. “Well, we’re going to need a day or two to examine Mr. Tweak in isolation. He’s got to meet with our psychiatry team, and we’ll have to contact his parents. Then I think he should have a week or preferably two to get acclimated to the environment here before he sees any of his friends.”

“Wuh-wuh-why do you have to contact his puh-parents, Dr. Victoria?”

“Yeah, Tweek is eighteen. Doesn’t that make him his own person yet?” Token looked around for support. “Also his parents are idiots. And weird.” _And_ they _should have been the ones to realize he needed serious help ten years ago_ , Token added in his head. As guilty as he felt, Tweek had just been their friend. They saw him at school everyday and when they hung out, but Tweek’s parents had been seeing him everyday his whole life. They didn’t do anything. Plus, Token had a sneaking suspicion that all that coffee had not been good for Tweek’s anxiety, and he could definitely blame them for that.

The doctor nodded. “Yes, of course, but we are going to need to figure out his insurance situation, and it would be helpful to hear anything they think might be important to tell us about their son.”

“We’ve already told you everything,” Craig snapped. They had spent fucking hours struggling to recall all their fond childhood memories and analyze them for signs of his anxiety. It hadn’t taken them so long because it was difficult to remember; it had taken them so long because there was so _much_ to remember.

She gave Craig that goddamn smile again, and Token could have punched her. Dr. Victoria seemed like a nice lady. Maybe she had gotten too used to dealing with crazy teenagers all day to remember that some weren’t crazy and could understand anything just as well as she could. “We can’t assume we see the whole picture until we’ve talked to his parents and Mr. Tweak himself. You’ve all been given us very, very valuable information though.”

Craig grunted and crossed his arms across his chest. “Okay, so can we say goodbye to him before we go?”

Dr. Victoria shook her head, eyes twinkling sympathetically at the boys. “I’m afraid not. Mr. Tweak is already with professionals right now, and we like to make sure all our patients have an identically structured first day if possible.”

“You didn’t tell us we were saying bye for real when you brought us in here!” Token burst out. “We don’t even know when we’re going to fucking see him next!”

Token could have imagined this was one of the few cases in which the friends checking a patient in were much more belligerent than the patient himself. Dr. Victoria cleared her throat and smiled again. “If you’d like, Mr. Black, you may all write him a letter that he will receive when he’s brought to his room.”

“A letter?” Craig echoed hollowly.

“We have pens and paper in the waiting room if you have something you’d like to write before you leave, and you can give them to any nurse to deliver to him. I’d bet Mr. Tweak would love to have some letters waiting for him when he gets to his room.”

Token nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, let’s… go write letters, I guess. Will you call us once you know when he can start accepting visitors?”

“Of course.” Dr. Victoria gave them her most genuine smile yet. “You boys are good friends. You care a lot, and I bet he was very lucky to have friends like you growing up.”

Token grinned back humorlessly. It was probably _very_ lucky that he had friends who had just cracked up when Clyde dropped his tray down at the cafeteria table and announced _“Tweek made a tinfoil hat!”_ with a little giddiness in his voice.

When Dr. Victoria had been interviewing them about Tweek’s symptoms, Clyde had turned bright red, gnawing on his lip as he admitted _“Tweek had a lot of, uh, anxiety about the privacy of his, um, thoughts, I guess.”_

Craig stood up and shook Dr. Victoria’s hand. “Thank you. Let us know when we can see him.”

Dr. Victoria nodded as the other boys gave respectful goodbyes and shuffled out of the office. Once they were back in the fluorescent lighting of the waiting room, they fell silent again. No one wanted to be the first to speak or make eye contact with another boy.

“So, guys,” Jimmy forced out finally. “Luh-luh-letters?”

Token still wasn’t sure he wanted to speak to any of them so he just turned around and walked to the nurses’ station, assuming everyone was following. “Could we please have four pieces of paper and pens so we can write letters for Tweek Tweak?”

The nurse, a dark-haired girl around their age, shuffled around in a drawer for some paper. Token couldn’t help but wonder why such an attractive girl would choose to work with mentally ill males her own age. She must have gotten horribly hit on so often. “Here you go,” she handed Token the paper and smiled. Maybe she didn’t actually have to interact with the patients during her job here. It was the only solution he could think of; she was incredibly hot. “You can just bring them back to me when they’re done. I’ll probably be right here, but if I’m not, you can just give them to whomever’s here and say Wendy will take them.”

Token grinned a little. Her voice was sweet and confident (if not a little irritatingly high-pitched), but what he really found endearing was her casual use of whom. He had forced himself to forget certain grammar rules like _whom_ and splitting the infinitive because he didn’t want to sound like a pretentious douche when he spoke, but it sounded so natural for her. He bet she would never accidentally split an infinitive either. “Thank you, Wendy.”

He accepted the papers and pens and passed them out. Craig heaved a sigh when he took the paper from Token and rolled his eyes. “Well this sucks,” he said bluntly.

“This sucks buh-buh-balls,” Jimmy agreed as he sat down on the plastic waiting room seats.

“What are you guys gonna say in your letter?” Clyde asked thoughtfully.

“Clyde, you asshole, if we told you what we said, he’d get four identical sounding letters. You can’t cheat on this.” Token flipped him off, and Craig seconded it for good measure.

“Yuh-you can’t cheat your feelings, muh-muh-man.”

Token sat down in a seat across from Jimmy, angling his body to shield the letter he hadn’t even started. “Just say a nice _see you soon_ if you can’t think of anything to say, Clyde. It doesn’t need to be emotional.”

One look at the tears brimming in Clyde’s eyes was enough to tell him that it would definitely be emotional. God, he hoped Clyde could just get this letter out so they could leave. He was anticipating hours in this creepily sterile room waiting for Clyde to stop his novel to Tweek.

He stared down at the page, now realizing maybe _he_ would be the one to keep all his friends waiting when he couldn’t even manage to move the pen in his hand to write _Dear Tweek_. He snuck a peek towards his friends to see how quickly they were writing, but so far everyone was still staring at their papers. It felt a little like he had tried to cheat on a test that no one else knew the answer to either. Token wondered how bad it would sound if he just made himself write nonstop until he’d filled the page then gave Tweek whatever his train of thoughts delivered.

_Dear Tweek,_

_This is the fucking hardest to write. It would’ve been fucking hard to say goodbye to you in person, but it’s a lot weirder doing it on paper. I also could’ve just hugged you or something if I couldn’t think of anything to say, but I can’t fucking write a hug so that option is off the table. I’m really sorry this happened. I should have done something sooner. I just thought you were a weirdo, and I had ten years to look deeper, and I didn’t do anything about it til you got too weird to understand. Like that time you had that weird spazzing fit then just lay there for an hour and kind of groaned and muttered shit? Then you told us later you’d seen Hell? I’m sorry you had to get to that level of weird before I really paid attention. That was my bad, I guess. I can’t even remember a time when you weren’t like this. For the record, I always thought it was a pretty cool, like, thing to have. Like you’re a fucking memorable kid, and your weird is always interesting, and I’m really going to miss having it around everyday. I’m going to miss having you there everyday. This sucks. Well, fuck, no, that’s not what I meant – it sucks it got this far. It’s so good that you’re here. I hope you enjoy it, and I’ll come see you ASAP._

Token shook his head out. The train of thoughts letter was definitely not a good idea. Around him, people had finally started to write. Clyde had to go get a new sheet from Wendy because he got too many tears on the first page, and Craig was leaning unnecessarily protectively over the paper on his lap. Token knew the kid sounded weird whenever he tried to talk about his feelings, but Craig looked like he thought any one of them might try to read or steal his letter at any time.

Oh, well. They were going to need a new paranoid friend anyway.

Finally, Token managed to get some words down. He wasn’t much happier with the way this turned out, but at least he was careful not to call Tweek weird. The jokes felt really forced, and every time he tried to write down a real emotion, it would turn into another forced joke. His letter was probably as bad as fucking Jimmy’s. The paper was also really messy and full of words and sentences that he’d scratched out, and Token got a weird feeling Tweek would be able to know what those sentences had said anyway. He debated going to get a new sheet of paper from Wendy and trying again, but it was unlikely he was ever going to think of the right things to say.

_Dear Tweek,_

_I hope everything’s chill here. I’ll miss you a lot and think about you every time I have a cup of coffee (but I’m more of a red bull guy, so I’ll also think about you when I’m not having coffee). It was really cool of you to let us bring you here, and I bet it’s going to help a lot. Please don’t think we’re trying to change you because we wouldn’t have hung out with you all our lives if we didn’t like this stuff about you. I just want you to be happy and healthy so we can hang out more because all our other friends are really boring compared to you. We’re all going to visit you soon, and you can tell us all about what it’s like here. I hope the other kids are cool. Write me letters if you can. Tell me if you want me to sneak you anything in up my asshole (because I’ll make Clyde do it)._

_Love,_

_Token_

***

Tweek had been sitting on a hospital examination bed for what felt like days. He had a lot of nightmares that started like this. Right now they were just tormenting him before the examination started. He didn’t usually have to wait this long in his nightmares, but, to be honest, the amount of time he’d been sitting here was about how much sleep he’d get for the whole night if he were lucky. Tweek wasn’t totally sure if dreams were experienced in real time or even what dreams were or- _fuck_ he didn’t want to get stuck thinking about stuff like that right now.

He had tried to meditate while he waited, but he’d been trying to meditate all his life and never got any good at it. There was definitely no way he was going to distract himself from thinking about the fact that he was in a hospital, and he had absolutely no idea what was going to happen to him. That was a kind of twisted distraction in itself. There were innumerable awful things that could happen to someone completely powerless in a hospital, and Tweek’s brain was going to make him live all of them.

“ _Gah_!” He didn’t know if he was relieved or not when the door finally opened and a nurse entered. Tweek rubbed his eyes when he saw the nurse. That was definitely not usually a character in his dreams. The nurse was bulky but wore his fat in a “cuddly” way, but Tweek was more thrown off by the fact that the nurse appeared to be wearing a costume candy striper outfit.

He flashed Tweek a radiant smile. “Tweek Tweak! I am so pleased to meet you! I’ve heard a little about you already, but I can’t wait to get to know the real thing! I’m Al, I’m one of the nurses,” he twirled the skirt of his dress a little bit in case Tweek hadn’t already noticed the costume and assumed he worked as a nurse, “how are you doing today, little guy?”

Tweek’s twitch felt stronger than usual, and it had already been getting worse in the weeks before he got here. His head was jerking with so much force that the whole right side of his neck was sore. “I- I don’t know! How long have I – _ngh_ – been here for?”

“It’s been about two hours, Tweek. I’m super sorry you had to wait that long. Everything’s been so hectic today because we just got the new machine-“

“ _Machine_?”

“Oh, I’m spoiling it! You’ll see when we show you around the hospital!” Al took a seat next to Tweek’s bed, and Tweek edged away slightly. “So we’re just going to do some boring intake questions. It won’t take long, then you’ll see Dr. Victoria, and she’ll refer you to a psychiatrist and therapist, then another nurse – maybe me! – will bring you to your room. How does that sound?”

Tweek blinked at Al, struggling to stop worrying about the machine and make sense of what he was saying. “Okay.”

Al pulled out a clipboard with a flourish. “Alright, Tweek Tweak. Your friends filled out all our basic patient information; do you want to verify that for me real quick?” He handed Tweek a sheet of paper with New Patient Intake Form written at the top.

Tweek scanned it quickly. How the fuck did his friends have all this information on him? It was just basic stuff like his address, phone number, social security number (Tweek had gone on such a long rant about the government the day he found out what social security numbers were that his friends couldn’t forget his if they tried – he’d repeated it about a million times with the same anguished expression every time), but he hadn’t realized they had access to all that information right off the top of their heads. It was almost like they’d been _working_ to learn these mundane facts about his life- _fuck, dammit, shit_ , his friends weren’t spying on him. It was all okay.

He grinned a little as he noticed Craig listed for his emergency contact instead of his dad. He wondered vaguely if there’d been debate about whose number to put or if Craig had filled out the whole sheet himself, but he noticed that section was filled out in a different handwriting. Tweek imagined someone – probably Token – filled out the form, and Craig just grabbed it, made himself the emergency contact and handed it back with a dicky comment about how it was in ink now but Token could go get a new form and start over if he wanted to change it.

Tweek was pretty sure that was what had happened. He ran simulations of his friends in his head all the time (usually about how they would react to horrific tragedies, but Tweek could generalize). He handed the form back to Al. “That looks right.”

“Fantastic! Then we just have to do the second intake form! You’ll be with Dr. Victoria in no time.” Al shuffled around for a different sheet and looked up at Tweek like he was about to give him the interview of his life. “Okay! I’m going to read through a list of symptoms. Can you tell me if you are experiencing them, and, if so, are they mild, moderate or severe?”

Tweek nodded wordlessly.

“Depressed mood?”

He shook his head.

“Inability to enjoy-slash-take interest in usual activities?”

“Isn’t that the same thing as depressed mood?”

“Well it’s two different boxes on the sheet, silly.”

“Okay. No. Still enjoy.” Speaking of things he usually enjoyed, were they going to give him coffee here? Was that something he was allowed to ask? This wasn’t rehab, but Tweek got the impression there would be some dumb, strict rule about it.

“Sleep pattern disturbances?”

“No disturbance. It’s just always sucked.”

Al pursed his lips as if he wasn’t quite sure what to write for Tweek’s answer, but he nodded. “Change in appetite?

Tweek shook his head. “C-can I have coffee here?”

“We have it at breakfast and at the nurse’s station before lunch.”

_Before lunch?_ He really didn’t want to have to sneak extra coffee before lunch and save it for throughout the day. It made him feel a lot more addicted than he wanted to, but of course he would do that if they pushed him to it. Before lunch, Jesus Christ.


	2. We Don't Use the Word "Normal"

Tweek shifted in his chair uncomfortably as Dr. Victoria sifted through paperwork, occasionally shooting him curious glances. Everyone at this hospital seemed determined to make Tweek wait as long as possible as often as possible, and when they weren’t making him wait, they just asked him the same five questions with different wording every time. It was infuriating. If all the adults at this hospital weren’t so fucking annoying, Tweek might have had more time to be upset, but instead he just wanted for them to get on with it.

“Alright, Mr. Tweak.” He couldn’t place Dr. Victoria’s accent, but he knew it drove him up the walls. “I think I’ve found the perfect suite for you. Now, did Al explain to you how our suite system will work here?”

“No one’s been explaining anything!”

Dr. Victoria smiled at him, and he stopped tugging on his hair to fold his hands in his lap. She looked like she’d been bracing herself for a temper tantrum or something. Tweek had to worry what kinds of boys he’d be living with if the staff consisted of her and a flamboyantly cheerful gay man. They both seemed exceptionally good at being unphased by anything, and Tweek worried that was a necessary skill for the job. Like all the staff who couldn’t handle a bunch of crazies throwing feces at each other had found other jobs.

“Alright, Mr. Tweak,” she repeated. “This hospital is made up of about twenty suites. Each suite has five to ten boys in it, and all those boys share a counselor and a psychiatrist. Most of your time will be spent with your suite. You’ll see your counselor everyday, and you’ll have group therapy and a meeting with your psychiatrist twice a week.”

Tweek clenched his hands together tighter. “Okay. So which suite am I in?”

“Suite 13. They’re lovely boys. Really.” She surrounded thoroughly unconvincing. “I’ve paged your psychiatry team now so you can meet them before you meet your suitemates.”

Tweek blanched. “Team?” He really didn’t think he was so messed up he’d need more than one person. Two, max.

“Oh, I mean your counselor and psychiatrist.”

“Why do I need two?”

She smiled at him calmly. “Your psychiatrist will help you figure out what medications you should be on and help with the adjustment to that. If you need any further help, he’ll also oversee administering that.”

Dear God. That must be what the machines were. Tweek decided then and there that he would _not_ need further help. Al hadn’t seemed particularly foreboding when he brought it up, but vagueness always made Tweek anxious. It let his mind fill in all the blank spaces, and he was beginning to appreciate how bad a job his mind was doing.

“We know today’s been a stressful day for you, and you’ve been acting wonderfully for all of it.” Was she saying that to placate him or was Tweek actually a wonderful patient? He was beginning to get more and more nervous about meeting the other boys in his suite. “So you won’t have your preliminary therapy session until tomorrow afternoon. Feel free to reach out to any of the staff tonight if you feel like you need someone to talk to. There will be someone here for you 24/7.”

Tweek nodded. No therapy session meant he had very limited time left before he was taken to his suite, and suddenly he didn’t mind having been forced to wait for hours.

Dr. Victoria tensed up at the sound of two pairs of feet approaching her door. Tweek had always had exceptionally good hearing (to the point, in fact, of hearing things that were not there), but it didn’t seem like the voices outside were trying to whisper anyway.

_“Victoria says we’ve got a pretty normal one.”_

_“Dr. Garrison, I’ve asked you multiple times to not refer to patients as normal or abnormal, m’kay? It stigmatizes them.”_

_“They’re a load of freaks!”_

_“Yes, well, that may be, but we don’t use the word “normal”.”_

_“I think she just feels guilty for saddling us with that fat little monster so she’s selling us this kid like a used car dealer.”_

_“Dr. Garrison!”_

_“I’m sorry, Mackey, but you see him more often than I do. You know he’s a little bastard.”_

_“I’m not debating the merits of Eric Cartman, m’kay? His, mm, shortcomings don’t mean anything about Mr. Tweak.”_

The footsteps were drawing closer. Tweek was enjoying watching the anger on Dr. Victoria’s face as she realized how loud the two men were being. She looked at Tweek for confirmation that he could hear everything they were saying, and Tweek looked back down at his lap quickly. That was enough confirmation for her.

She stood up from her desk and stormed over to the door. She stepped out into the hall slightly, but her voice was so raised that Tweek had no difficulty following the conversation. “Dr. Garrison! You are a _medical professional_. Please do not talk about your patients like that in public so loudly.”

“This isn’t public. No one can hear us except that nervous little freak.”

“Dr. Garrison! Oh, my God!”

A man stepped past her into the office, and Tweek twisted around in his seat to examine the source of the voice. It was a middle-aged, balding man with youthful immaturity. “Oh, shit, I forgot the puppet. Does he need the puppet?”

Dr. Victoria returned to her desk looking absolutely livid. “No, I am sure he’ll be quite fine without the puppet.”

“Well, okay, but I can go get Mr. Hat if we need him.”

“I think that’s fine, Dr. Garrison, m’kay? Mr. Hat probably isn’t necessary right now.” The second man stepped into the office, and Tweek caught a squeak in the back of his throat. His head was _absurd_. Holy _shit_. Tweek had to blink his eyes a few times to be sure he wasn’t having some crazy hallucination. His body was like a thin stick attached to a hot air balloon. He smiled at Tweek, and Tweek was left with the surprising sense that this lollipop was one of the better members of the staff here. “Hello, Mr. Tweak, I assume.”

He extended a hand, and Tweek tried to suppress a twitch as he shook it. “Just Tweek.” The surname thing had been making him uncomfortable all day. Even if it was identical to his first name. Tweek could tell the difference in someone’s voice.

“I’m Mr. Mackey, and this here is Dr. Garrison. We’re going to help provide you the best therapy possible during your stay here.”

Tweek raised an eyebrow and glanced at Dr. Garrison. That guy was going to provide him the best therapy possible? He was fucking doomed. He might as well be with his friends and be insane if he was relying on this guy’s help.

Mr. Mackey looked like he understood Tweek’s expression. “Dr. Garrison is very good at his job, I assure you. He did indeed go through eight years of medical school.” Mackey paused as if he felt like he should add something there, but he decided better of it.

Tweek’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you go to medical school?”

“College!” Dr. Garrison snapped, and Dr. Victoria heaved a sigh.

“I assure you, Dr. Garrison’s degree from the medical school at University of Newfoundland Online is 100% certifiable, and he is a very capable doctor.”

“Gah! How do you go to medical school online?”

Dr. Garrison cast him a disparaging look as he sat down. “Well, it’s not like I need to cut you open or anything.”

“But you’re supposed to be able to! You’re a _doctor_!” Tweek couldn’t help returning to tugging on his hair. “And don’t you need to be certified in the country you practice in?” His voice was becoming a shrill, angry squeak.

Dr. Garrison gave him a slightly more interested look. “Well, look at you, twitchy. Maybe you did give us a normal one, Victoria.”

She glared at him and returned her attention to Tweek. “Dr. Garrison is very qualified,” she repeated again. “People tend to be very happy with his care.”

The way the adults exchanged eye contact whenever one of them said something like that was unsettling to put it mildly. “And he’s the one in charge of the medications and… and other stuff?”

“You bet I am! I’ll drug that weird out of you in no time.”

Dr. Victoria stared at him, and Mackey’s mouth was slightly open. They both seemed horrified, which might have meant this was an especially bad day to meet Dr. Garrison, but neither of them seemed surprised.

Tweek nodded slowly. “C-can I have some kind of authentication certificate for any drugs you want to give me?”

Mackey snorted. “Sure, but we have authentication certificates for Dr. Garrison too, and he- “. Mr. Mackey stopped speaking abruptly under the heat of Dr. Victoria’s glare. “Sure, you can.”

“Alright, so let’s get to business.” Dr. Garrison turned his whole attention to Tweek even as he addressed the other adults in the room. “I’m sure we’re all on board with a tentative diagnosis of anxiety disorder? Possible amphetamine addiction?”

“Dr. Garrison!” Tweek wished he’d kept a tally of how many times Dr. Victoria had snapped his name with that exact same inflection. “We decided that we would have his introductory sessions tomorrow.”

Dr. Garrison raised an eyebrow. “Well, excuse me. I was just trying to be nice so we could get him some bars tonight instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

“Dr. Garrison, please call it Xanax, m’kay? You know not to use street slang for drugs you prescribe.”

Dr. Garrison snorted loudly. “His loss. Sorry, Twitch.”

“Tweek.”

“Tweek. My mistake.”

Mr. Mackey cleared his throat. “Well, Tweek, we thought now would be a good time to get to know you a little bit before we bring you up to your floor. The boys just finished dinner. We’ll have a nurse bring you for food after this meeting.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, just tell us about yourself. What do you like? What’s your home like?”

Tweek frowned. “This feels like therapy.”

“ _Oooh_ , he equates innocuous questions about his home life to therapy. He’s one of those patients.” Dr. Garrison rolled his eyes. “I’ll go read up on some Freud, I guess.”

“Jesus Christ, man,” Dr. Victoria snapped finally. “Do I need to start recording your sessions with these kids?”

Mr. Mackey nodded at her gravely.

“My home life is fine! I live with my parents. They- _ah!_ -own a coffee shop. I don’t have siblings.”

“Dr. Victoria, I think you’re putting a lot of pressure on him to have this conversation in front of all of us, m’kay? Let’s just have a nurse get him dinner and bring him upstairs.”

“Oh. Okay. Would you prefer that, Mr. Tweak?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Okay. Mr. Mackey, can you page one of the nurses?”

He didn’t have to answer her request before a loud banging on Dr. Victoria’s door interrupted them. Her eyebrows knit together as she called back, “come in!”

A dark-haired girl burst into the office. She gave off the impression that she might look very put together most of the time, but today her cheeks were flushed red and her eyes wild. “We have a situation in suite 13! Oh, Mr. Mackey, Dr. Garrison, that’s perfect!”

Tweek’s eyes widened. Suite 13. Jesus Christ.

“Wendy, please calm down, we have a patient here. Wendy, this is Tweek Tweak. Tweek, this is Wendy Testaburger. She’s volunteering as a nurse here right now. I’m sure you two will-“.

Dr. Victoria was cut off by Wendy’s whimpering. “I’m trying really hard to be professional right now, Dr. Victoria, but you have to come with me! It’s really important!”

“Wendy, I’m surprised at you. What’s important enough for you to act like this in front of a new arrival?”

Tweek sank down in his seat. He was beginning to accept that he would be fucked up for his whole life long. Or he could switch to another hospital. When he looked back at Wendy, she seemed almost as twitchy as he was. “Um, one of the other boys found out that we were planning ECT for him, and he… didn’t… like it.” He could tell Wendy was struggling not to blurt out all the details in front of a patient.

“Who was it?” Dr. Victoria asked innocently as Mr. Mackey and Dr. Garrison made worried eye contact. Tweek was having a hard time deciding who in the room was most interesting to watch right now. Dr. Victoria seemed oblivious, and the other three looked like the sky was about to explode.

“Doctor, there’s only one patient in suite 13 we had discussed ECT for,” Mr. Mackey began hesitantly.

Dr. Garrison stood up abruptly. “Oh, fuck this, we have to go find that little bastard! Wendy, where is he?”

She clenched her hands. “We’re not _sure_. Al is looking for him right now.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Mackey jumped up too. “Alright, we have to go. It was great to meet you, Mr. Tweak. Please do not let this give you a bad impression of your suite.” With that, he and Dr. Garrison strode out of the room purposefully. Wendy turned to follow, but Dr. Victoria called her back.

“I’m sorry, Wendy, Mr. Tweak hasn’t eaten yet. Could you attend to that instead? I’m sure they have the situation in very capable hands now.”

Wendy stared after Dr. Garrison as if she wasn’t sure, but she nodded. Tweek pushed himself out of the chair and wandered after her hazily.

***

Tweek had almost managed to finish dinner before this hospital fucked up again. It had actually been really nice. When Wendy wasn’t freaking out, she was very smart and sweet. She talked to him about volunteering for awhile and just laughed it off when he asked shrewdly how much she was playing it up on her college applications. Tweek told her a little bit about his life in South Park and started describing his friends, whom she murmured something vague about meeting in the check-in room.

Then a pager on her hip started buzzing rapidly. Wendy looked at it, and her flush came back almost immediately. “Okay, Tweek, are you done with your dinner?”

“What? Not really. Sure, if you want.”

She frowned down at the pager. “We’re on lockdown. I have to get you to your suite. You can bring it with you if you want.”

“ _Agh!_ Lockdown? W-why?”

“They still haven’t found that patient from earlier,” she muttered grimly. “Mackey was right when he said don’t let this give you a bad impression of the place. This guy is, um, a special case.”

“And he’s in my suite?!”

She grinned a little. “Well, he’s in your suite if we ever find him again.” She stood up, and Tweek grabbed an uneaten apple to shove in his pocket. “Ready to go?”

Tweek followed her out of the cafeteria, skipping a little to catch up with her brisk walk. “Can you tell me what’s so bad about this particular patient?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“But he’s in my suite?”

Wendy led him down a few hallways to a stairwell and held the door open for him. “All I’ll say is that when the courts accept insanity pleas like that, we’re the ones who get fucked over.”

Tweek froze. “Someone in my suite is criminally insane?” His twitch was going in full force, and he couldn’t steady his voice. Wendy put a calming hand on his arm to lead him up the stairs.

“He won’t do anything to you. Don’t worry at all. He’s just, kind of…”

“A bastard?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Dr. Garrison was bitching about one of his patients outside of Dr. Victoria’s door.”

A look of clarity passed over her face. “Ah, yes, okay. It was probably this patient then.”

Wendy stopped at the third floor and opened the door for Tweek again. Across the stairwell were glass doors to another hall that read Suite 13 in chipped white paint. Tweek couldn’t make himself step out of the stairwell. “It’ll be okay, Tweek. Honestly, it’s probably best to meet everyone else while he’s not there. Some of the other kids are really great.”

Tweek looked completely unconvinced.

She pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket and opened the door to the suite for him. “I’d be nicer, honestly, but I’m putting my job at risk by letting you out in the open while we’re on lockdown. It won’t be bad; I promise you. If it helps convince you, I think your friends all wrote you letters before they left.”

He stared at her reluctantly as she led him into the hall and closed and locked the door behind them. Tweek hovered near the door, inspecting his surroundings carefully. It was a long hallway with four bedroom doors and a sign for the bathroom at the opposite end. He could hear a cacophony of boys’ voices and laughter from the far end of the hall so Tweek guessed it would open into some kind of common room.

Wendy rubbed his back, probably noticing how intense his trembling had become. Fuck, he was basically vibrating. “Welcome home, Tweek.” She squeezed his shoulder affectionately. “Your bags were already dropped off in your room when you arrived here. Come on – let’s go meet the other boys!”


	3. Suite 13

Tweek really didn’t feel like he’d been given the option to say “no” as Wendy led him down the hall to the common room. The voices got louder and louder as Tweek neared them, and Wendy never took her comforting hand off Tweek’s shoulder as they entered the room together. Tweek’s first impression as he took in the room was that they had been making a shocking amount of noise for four boys. He had been anticipating a rowdy 10-person suite, but instead it was just four teenagers curled up on some couches around a TV.

The hallway split the common area into two sides, and the other patients stayed contained to the left side presumably because it had the seating and TV. The right side had bookcases and stacks of board games along with a box of sports equipment and some free floor space with a yoga mat still open on it.

A big part of Tweek did not want to look away from the right side to examine the boys because it was a universal rule that if you could see something, it could see you too, but at this point it was more important for Tweek to know what he was up against. He couldn’t pretend the boys weren’t there while they were right in front of him.

There were three couches, but they had only spread out across two of them. On one couch, a dark-haired boy sprawled with his arms across the back of the couch and a red-headed boy’s head in his lap. People always told Tweek that he was very observant, but really he just spent a _lot_ of energy thinking about things from every possible angle. He wanted to be the kind of person who could read someone with a glance, but he always ended up just staring a lot. He focused hard for a second, trying to place his bets on why these two were in the nuthouse.

They were clearly gay. Tweek wasn’t homophobic, but they were in the hick capital of the USA. That wasn’t an impossible explanation.

The dark-haired boy looked really normal, the epitome of “solidly average”.  If they weren’t on lockdown, Tweek might have guessed that he was just a visitor for the other boy. The only weird thing Detective Tweek could note was that, while everyone had on t-shirts and boxers for hanging out before bed, his shirt had long sleeves. Maybe he picked at his skin like Tweek did, even though Tweek preferred to pick at his hands.

The other boy was shockingly skinny. He looked like a Holocaust victim, and, _fuck_ , Tweek hoped he hadn’t just thought that because of the boy’s clearly Jewish nose. He looked like a skeleton, but at least he looked like a pretty happy skeleton.

Two blondes sat on the couch across from them. Well, technically, one of the blondes, a plump little boy, was curled up happily in a ball on one end, and the other blonde had sprawled over the rest of the couch languidly. Tweek didn’t understand why he didn’t just lie down on the other fucking couch so the other one could sit normally.

Again, they both looked remarkably normal. It was starting to freak Tweek out how not freaky everyone was. Holocaust victim notwithstanding, they all seemed completely fine. Was Tweek going to be the weird one here? _Shit._ He couldn’t handle being the weird one.

He’d only be the weird one until the criminally insane kid got back, anyway, he reminded himself mirthlessly.

Wendy hadn’t done anything to encourage him to move for a long time like she knew it was okay to go through a period of shock, but eventually the taller blonde on the couch looked over at Tweek and fell silent. The other boys, one-by-one, followed his gaze and focused on Tweek.

Suddenly, the boy leapt off the couch and strode over to give Tweek a hug, jerking him away from Wendy. “You’re the new arrival!” He pulled back and gave Tweek a big grin, and Tweek was completely thrown off-balance. This boy wasn’t even normal – he was just kind of beautiful. His brain must have been a gigantic bust for people to lock someone this attractive away in a hospital. “A little twitchy there, aren’t you?” He flashed a grin at Wendy. “What’s up, Wen?”

“Not much, Ken. Praying there’s no dead animal waiting for me in my car. This is Tweek.” Wendy smiled warmly at Tweek. “Tweek, this is Kenny. He can be really cool. Don’t let him act like a dick.”

“I’ll introduce myself, Wendy.” Kenny stuck a hand out for Tweek to shake even though he had already hugged him like a lost brother. “I’m Kenny. If you’re trying to figure me out, I’m a drug addict. I think it’s only fair to tell you because you’re not hard to guess, twitchy, and I want to keep us on equal ground.”

“Dude!” The boy in long sleeves reprimanded him sharply. “Don’t talk like that to him.”

“Also don’t lie to him right off the bat,” added the boy in his lap. “Jesus.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“Lie of omission, drug addict. Kenny’s borderline as shit.”

Kenny flipped him off. “Fuck you, Kyle. You don’t just say shit like that around people.”

The skinny boy, Kyle, pushed himself up to glare at Kenny. “I wouldn’t have said anything if you didn’t lie about. Why bring it up at all if you’re not going to tell the truth?” Kyle flipped him off right back, and Tweek was reminded sadly of his friends and his home. He’d have to tell Craig that it was impossible not to think of him whenever he saw someone flip someone else off.

“Ah, fuck yourself. But, whatever, yeah, that’s fair. Okay. This is Kyle. He hates food.” Kyle turned red and slumped back in the other boy’s lap. “That’s Stan. He thinks he’s Elliott Smith. And that,” he jerked his chin out towards the other blonde, “is Butters. What did you say you had again, Butters?”

“Dissociative Identity Disorder, Kenny.”

Kenny nodded. “Yes. Right. Butters is here because his parents are completely bat shit. He’s fine.”

“Kenny!” Wendy sounded just like Dr. Victoria talking to Dr. Garrison. “It’s not socially acceptable to say things like that about people without their permission!”

He looked stunned at her warning. “I’m not retarded. I know it’s not socially acceptable.”

Wendy frowned sternly at him. “This is what I meant, Tweek, about Kenny not being cool when he acts like a dick.”

“I don’t think nurses are supposed to talk to patients like that,” he interjected mockingly.

“Bullshit, Garrison says way worse stuff to you guys all the time.”

Tweek was very sure they could continue this conversation just fine without him, and he really just wanted to go to his room. Especially if there were letters from his friends, he just wanted to be by himself in a place where he didn’t feel like he was waiting for anything.

“I was just welcoming Tweek to the family, Wendy. Now he’s on equal footing with all of us, and he didn’t have to be around for a year to do it.” Kenny smiled at Tweek again. “You’re welcome. Sorry I didn’t tell the whole truth.”

“It’s- _ah_ -okay.” This boy put Tweek really on edge. At first he thought he was just caught off guard by how attractive he was, but now he just gave Tweek really bad vibes. Bad vibes were just as bad as vagueness or the dark – it let Tweek’s mind completely make up the source of them, and Kenny just kept getting creepier as warm as he was. “Hi,” he muttered blandly.

Stan lazily lifted up a hand to wave hello, and Kyle giggled a little. Only the little blonde boy, Butters, looked really excited. “Why, hi, Tweek! It’s really nice to meet you! I’m awful sorry if I forget your name later, but it’s probably one of my other personalities. Really sorry about that.”

“Jesus Christ, you don’t have split personality, Butters,” Kyle groaned.

“Yeah, dude, how have you not realized that?” Stan’s other hand had found its way down to play in Kyle’s curls, and Tweek was very sure he was right about the gay thing. It didn’t really seem to be a secret. “Even Mackey told you.”

Butters shrugged. “Well, I don’t know, Stan. I don’t want to live in denial or nothin’.”

Stan rolled his eyes and looked at Wendy for agreement.

Wendy frowned at him. “Only Butters and Mr. Mackey know what happens during their sessions, guys. If you keep making fun of each other, I’m going to make you go to another support-building seminar.”

“Woah, Wendy.” Kenny held up his hands in mock innocence. “Let’s not get carried away. We’ll all be nice.”

Tweek scratched at the back of his hands anxiously. “I’m going to go to my room. Which one is it?”

Kenny’s face fell. “What? You can’t go! We’re all waiting for the show!”

Tweek glanced at the TV. “What show?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t stay.” Kenny threw an arm around Tweek’s shoulder and led him to the empty couch. “I have a feeling it’ll be a good one this time, though. Wendy, you staying?”

“I don’t have a choice, Kenny. We’re on lockdown til he gets back.”

Tweek took a seat on the couch, his heart thumping. They were talking about the criminal one everyone had been talking about all night. He didn’t know why Kenny assumed he would want to stick around and meet someone like that, but he didn’t want to actively engage with Kenny long enough to argue.

Kenny plopped down next to Tweek on the couch and gestured for Wendy to take his old spot next to Butters. “So, Wendy, do you have any news about when our dear friend will be back?”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “I probably know less than you do, but you know I wouldn’t tell you either way. Have you guys just been talking about him all night?”

Kenny grinned. “What better thing is there to talk about? Well, besides you, Tweek.”

“Yeah, dude, sorry your first night got overshadowed by Cartman’s enormous shadow,” Kyle snickered a little. Tweek was actually pretty relieved that they had something more interesting to talk about than him. He had wanted to stay under the radar and just didn’t believe it was possible in a group so small. Cartman must really draw a lot of attention to himself.

“Well, I just want to know how he figured out they were gonna shock him,” Butters piped up. “Do you think he stole his chart?”

“Do I think that Cartman would break in somewhere to see the things that are being written about him to court officials?” Kyle repeated the question slowly. “I don’t know, Butters. Does that sound like something he would do?”

Tweek could guess that sounded like something he would do.

Kenny shifted on the couch so he was lying down again, but he didn’t force Tweek into the corner like he had Butters. “He’s kind of being a pussy. Shocks aren’t that bad.”

“You’ve never had electroshock, Kenny,” Stan spat angrily.

“I’ve been electrocuted multiple times! I think it’s an applicable feeling!”

“You haven’t been electrocuted either, dude. Stop it with that shit.”

Kenny glared darkly at Stan, and Tweek was beginning to get a better idea of where the bad vibes came from.

“Don’t glare at me, dude. You’re a fucking liar.”

“Guys, what did I just say about being nice to each other? Kenny, you know you’ve never been electrocuted. Stan, don’t try to make him uncomfortable. Everyone, stop gossiping about Eric. I can’t believe you’d get a whole new person on your floor and still act like this.” Wendy pulled off her beret to run her fingers through her hair in frustration. “Why don’t you put a little effort in to making Tweek feel like he’s at home?”

Butters smiled widely at Tweek. “I’m happy you’re here, Tweek! It’s been so long since Damien left. Things got real lonely.”

Tweek noticed Kenny tense up at the name Damien, and Kyle and Stan both shot him wary glances. “Thanks, Butters.” He wanted to ask who Damien was (he was assuming that he used to be a patient in this suite), but Kenny had reacted so noticeably to hearing his name just once. Well, that was kind of why Tweek wanted to ask about him, but he knew he’d regret that impulse. “Have you guys all been here long?”

Butters nodded happily. “These guys are like my family!”

“I take offense to that.” Kenny muttered out of Butters’ hearing.

“Do most people stay here for a long time?”

Butters bit his lip as he considered the question. “There’ve been a couple people who only stay a few weeks but not so much recently. Damien was only here a month or two before he left.”

“That doesn’t count. He just got moved somewhere else, Butters,” Stan said gently.

“And a bunch of other people left because they couldn’t be in the same suite as Cartman,” Kyle added. “Unfair statistics.” He looked at Tweek guiltily. “I’m not trying to scare you about Cartman. He won’t do anything to you. You should just be aware.”

Stan cracked his neck. “If you want him to be aware, you should tell him that Cartman probably will do something. But just ignore whatever he does. I’ve almost lived with him a year, and I’m fine.

“Why is he so bad?” Tweek blurted out. He had been trying not to incite any conversations, but these guys were opening a lot of topics as if Tweek was supposed to understand what they were talking about. It was incredibly frustrating. They couldn’t do it with both Cartman and Damien. That was too much for Tweek to be left imagining. He’d overload.

Kyle frowned. “You’ve really never heard of Eric Cartman?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Tweek could have just been remembering it from Dr. Garrison using it earlier. Kyle seemed pretty surprised. “Is he, like, famous or something?”

“He’s famously fucked up.”

“Infamously,” Stan corrected. “Right?”

Kyle glanced up at him and shrugged. “Does it matter? But, dude, Cartman. Wow. I don’t know where to begin with that one. I assumed you read the papers or something.”

Tweek read the papers religiously. The TV news always made him too anxious, but it also made him anxious to be uninformed about what was happening in the world. What if he were on the brink of being bombed and didn’t know because no one assumed to tell him? Sometimes the papers even told him things they didn’t tell other people if he read them enough times. Is that how he would know the name?

Kenny jumped up from the couch. He didn’t look angry at all anymore. “Can I turn the light off while I tell Tweek the story of Eric Cartman?” His grin made Tweek’s stomach clench. Tweek wanted to protest that he hated the dark, but no one else did, and Kenny leapt over the back of the couch to hit the switch.

As soon as it turned dark, Tweek felt his heart rate double. The TV was still on, but that just made the shadows even worse. There was some rustling, and soon Kenny was back by his side, except now he sat extremely close. “You ready, Tweek?”

He twitched. “What?”

“The story of Eric Cartman! It’s a good one. Not made up either, I promise.” Tweek didn’t respond, so Kenny continued. “Okay, so there’s this dicky little fatass, see? Then one day an older boy starts to fuck with him, but, like, harmless pranks not like anything dangerous. He makes Cartman so angry with these tiny little pranks that Cartman arranged to have his parents killed, and he ground them up into chili and fed them to the boy.”

“When Cartman tells this story, Radiohead was there,” Kyle added.

Stan shook his head. “Radiohead wasn’t there. They wouldn’t actually say that to someone.”

Kenny shushed them. “Also, maybe Radiohead was there. This was never confirmed for us. It gets worse though.”

A shudder ran all the way through Tweek’s body. “Worse than that?”

“Yeah. Because that’s not why he’s here.”

Tweek didn’t like the way Kenny told stories. Not everything should end in a cliffhanger. Tweek fucking hated suspense. “Why is he here?”

Kenny moved a little closer. “Nope. Nothing happened to him after that. That boy, though, he came here. For a couple years. I think they just released him because they knew he was the best he was ever gonna get. I mean, he’d eaten his parents. But as soon as he got out, he started planning his revenge on Cartman. He kidnapped him. I’d assume he tortured him, but I’d torture Cartman too if I could.”

_“Kenny.”_

“Sorry, Wendy, we all thought it. But he also told him something. See, Cartman’s mom was a huge slut. And still is. And she’s pretty hot. These are things to keep in mind. Anyway, Cartman never knew who his dad was. The boy found out just to make fun of him for it, but it turned out that the kid’s dad Cartman had fed him was _Cartman’s_ dad too.” Kenny gasped sarcastically, but Tweek actually did feel his own nails digging into the couch. “And it gets worse than that.”

Tweek squeaked. “How?”

“ _That’s_ not why he’s here either. A couple years ago, he shot a black kid, and he used his brother’s torture and all that stuff to get an insanity plea.”

Kyle let out a loud snort, breaking the tension in the room. “Sorry. I couldn’t hold it in. It’s just… he’s so fucking dumb.” Tweek could tell Kyle was trying to hold in laughter, and he couldn’t imagine why. That was one of the most horrible things he’d ever heard.

Tweek also definitely remembered Token getting shot by some random, angry kid a couple years ago.

“We live with this boy?”

“Well, you might. If they find him.” Kenny jumped up to switch the light back on. “Good story, though, right?”

“That was one of the most awful things I’ve ever heard.”

Stan leaned forward a little. “Now, if Radiohead had been there, would it have been the most awful story you ever heard?”

“What?” Tweek flinched away from Stan even on the opposite side of the room.

“If Cartman had fed the boy his parents, then gotten his favorite band to make fun of him. Then it’s the most awful thing you’ve ever heard right?”

Tweek wasn’t sure how Stan expected him to respond. “That might dig the nail in. I guess.”

Stan smiled and nodded. “Radiohead’s so influential. Damn.”

Kyle smirked up at him. “If you piss Cartman off enough, you’d probably get to meet them. When he fed your parents to you in front of them.”

“I gotta be honest, dude, I’d still be pretty excited to meet Radiohead. That’s how I know Cartman didn’t actually get them. If Cartman fed me my parents, I’d freak out like the other guy did. If Cartman fed me my parents, but Radiohead was there, I’d go talk to Radiohead.”

Kenny nodded slowly. “Great logic, Stan. Couldn’t agree more.”

“Shut up, Kenny, you’d probably eat your parents if you were hungry in the winter.”

“Probably. It’s never come to that, though. Are we just listing the situations in which we’d eat our parents and not care?”

Kyle frowned at him. “That’s fucked up, dude.”

 “Well, we all know you’d never eat your parents so this isn’t something you have to think about like the rest of us.”

Wendy reached over to prod at Kenny. “You need to get your attitude in check tonight. I don’t know if you’re showing off for Tweek or filling in for Cartman or what, but you’re being a dick.”

“Is that your medical opinion?”

“Yes, Kenny.”

Their conversation was halted by Wendy’s pager going off wildly. She shuffled around in her bag for her phone as Kenny remarked dryly, “that’ll be him, then.”

Wendy retrieved her phone and frowned at a text on the screen, typing something back quickly. “Eric’s found. He’s going to be kept in a secure setting for a little bit, but he’ll be back in a day or two.” She put her phone down. “Lockdown over.”

“We were just going to be sitting here anyway.”

Kenny smirked at Wendy as she stood up. “Yeah, but it means I don’t need to monitor you, and I’m going to bed. Tweek, I’ll be in room 4 if you need me. You’re going to be staying in Kenny’s room. Don’t let him scare you.” She waved goodnight to the boys and wandered down the hall.

“She lives here, too?” Tweek asked curiously, the Kenny comment not fully hitting him yet.

“A nurse or Mackey will be here every night of the week, but she doesn’t live here. She’s just on call.” Kyle sat up from Stan’s lap and stretched. “I’m kind of feeling following her out, though. I was hoping for a good Cartman show tonight, and now I’m disappointed.”

“Bed?” Stan asked hopefully, bracing himself to stand up from the couch.

Kyle nodded. “G’night, guys. Great to meet you, Tweek.”

“Word. See you at breakfast, Tweek.” Stan pushed himself up, and Kyle followed after him down the hall. Tweek could see Kyle leaning fully into him before they closed the door of their room.

Butters smiled at them sleepily. “I’ll let you two roomies bond. It sure is gonna be nice to have my room without Eric tonight.”

Kenny grinned. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Good night, Butters.”

“Night, Kenny. Night, Tweek.” Butters stifled a yawn as he padded down the hall, leaving Tweek with the sinking realization that he was sharing a room with Kenny.

With everyone gone, Kenny paused to look at Tweek more closely. He seemed different when he wasn’t surrounded by a group. Tweek couldn’t pinpoint how, but he definitely liked it better than Kenny with a group. Maybe he seemed more honest. At least now if he lied, no one would be there to tell Tweek it was a lie.

Kenny stood up from the couch, still watching Tweek intently. “Alright, roomie, you ready to see the pad?”


	4. Straight Outta Hell

“So are you as transparent as you seem to be or is there more under there?” It was Kenny’s first question as he walked Tweek to their room, and he had already sent Tweek reeling.

“What?”

Kenny paused with his hand on the doorknob and grinned at Tweek. “This whole anxiety thing. The twitches and squeaks and shit. Is that it?” He pulled back the door and held it open for Tweek to enter. The room was fairly big, about the size of a roomy college dorm, but neither side of the room had been emptied out for Tweek. One of the beds had Tweek’s suitcase and a short stack of letters on it, but it was surrounded by Kenny’s possessions on all sides. “Sorry I didn’t clean up for you. I’ll move my shit soon.”

Tweek nodded, resisting the urge to grab the letters and lock himself in the bathroom or somewhere where he wouldn’t have to talk to Kenny as he read them.

“So, that transparency thing, can I get a yes or no?” Kenny flopped down on his bed and smiled up at Tweek expectantly. “Are my questions making you anxious?”

Tweek had to clench his fists to restrain himself from picking at his hands. “No. To both.” The second part was a lie. Kenny was making him horribly anxious, and Tweek wasn’t sure how long he could live in the same room as someone who talked like this. Why couldn’t he have gotten Butters as a roommate? That boy seemed too nice for the stories about Eric Cartman anyway.

“Ah. Good. I was hoping you’d have some mystery. So what’s your fuckiness?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a mystery.”

Kenny grinned widely. “I only like mysteries when I’m the only one who solves them. C’mon. Voices in your head? I’d put money on voices in your head.”

Tweek glared at him, resisting the urge to flip him off. “So when are you going to move your stuff?”

Kenny laughed. “I guess I’m starting right now.” The room wasn’t exactly organized to begin with, but Kenny’s method of clearing out space involved him grabbing random objects and throwing them on the floor on the other side of his bed. “You’re not OCD, right?”

Tweek shook his head.

“Didn’t think so. You probably would’ve buttoned your shirt correctly if you were.” Kenny peeled a poster of a pinup model off the wall over Tweek’s bed and threw it down on his own. “It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

“Has it been awhile since you’ve had a roommate?” Tweek asked suspiciously. He couldn’t imagine why a suite with Eric Cartman would give Kenny a free room and subject a poor kid to being Eric’s roommate. It seemed illogical and a little bit cruel.

Kenny paused in his moving and gave Tweek a dull smile. “The last guy got moved to another suite in January. It’s been me since then.”

“Was that Damien?”

He noticed Kenny tense up in the same way he had in the common room. It was kind of a relief to know that he’d already found a sore spot. He didn’t anticipate a lull in Kenny’s weird comments and questions anytime soon. “Yeah.”

Tweek stared at him. He’d like to say he’d stared at him unflinchingly, but, in reality, he shook and twitched violently as he attempted to hold the eye contact. “Why’d he go? Stan said he was just moved somewhere else.”

Kenny shrugged. “Maybe he was. I wouldn’t know. That’d be pretty funny if he were just in the suite right next to ours right now.”

“But _why_?”

He sighed dramatically. “Damien was Hell,” he said simply. “Straight out of Hell. We liked each other too much, I guess. Agreed on shit they didn’t want someone agreeing with me on.”

The way Kenny said _Hell_ made the hairs on the back of Tweek’s neck stand up, and he was reminded uncontrollably about the world of fire, shadows and demons he’d slip into when he dissociated after massive anxiety attacks. That seemed like it was straight out of Hell, too.

“It’s okay,” Kenny continued after a pause. “We both knew we were right. That’s all you can hope for in a place like this.” He smiled at Tweek. “If I’m going to answer your questions, you’re going to answer mine. So, voices? You a voice guy?”

He tugged on his missed button. “Sometimes,” Tweek admitted quietly.

“You’re not a stim junkie are you?” Kenny looked excited at the prospect. “Stan doesn’t take his Wellbutrin script, and it’s pretty sick if you crush it up. It’s a lot of powder like you’ll destroy your nose, but it’s better than nothing.”

Tweek shook his head wildly. “Just coffee.”

“Alright, good, I didn’t really want to share anyway. You’ll probably get a pretty sick benzo prescription, twitchy. Tongue some of your meds and give them to me if you don’t like them.”

Tweek nodded. He didn’t really want to be giving Kenny drugs, but he didn’t really want to be put on drugs. At least this way they wouldn’t go to waste if he chose not to take them. “I… have a choice about if I get medicated or not, right?”

“Technically, you have a choice about everything.”

The way Kenny said _technically_ gave Tweek a bad feeling he wouldn’t get a choice about if he were medicated or not.

“Those are yours, by the way.” Kenny pointed towards the stack of letters. “Wendy dropped them off a couple hours ago. In defense of my untidiness, that was when I found out I was getting a roommate. Give some advanced warning next time you’re going to have a meltdown or whatever you did to get in here.”

Tweek picked up the letters defensively and glared at Kenny. “I didn’t have a meltdown.” _I had a_ lot _of meltdowns_.

Kenny shrugged. “I mean, there’s really only two ways people get brought here. Unless you have parents like Butters.”

He looked at Tweek as if he was waiting for him to take the bait, and Tweek reluctantly asked, “so what are the two?”

“You’re a danger to yourself or others.”

“And which are you?”

Kenny snorted. “They think myself. I don’t really think either. I’m not Stan, but I’d also never feed a kid his parents.” He smiled sardonically. “I guess you could say I don’t need to be here. And which are you?”

“I’m not a danger to others,” Tweek muttered.

Kenny seemed pleased with the amount of information that he had extracted from Tweek, and he lay back down to stare at the ceiling. “Good news for me, then.” His eyelids fluttered closed, and Tweek was once again struck by how much better looking he was when his body didn’t just seem like a vessel for his personality. “Man, I’m too lazy to go to the bathroom. Will you wet the blue toothbrush in there, put some toothpaste on it, and bring it to me with a glass of water so I can rinse and spit?” He asked this like it was a completely normal request.

Tweek glanced down at the letters then back at Kenny. “Just go to the fucking bathroom, man. I’m going to go read these in the other room.”

Kenny opened his eyes in surprise and pushed himself onto his elbows. “I was expecting you to be more of a pushover. Come on, dude. It’s just a toothbrush.”

“It’s just a toothbrush!” Tweek echoed, not pausing to appreciate Kenny’s unprecedented grin as he stalked out of the room.

***

Even without coffee, Tweek was not what one would consider a sleeper. It was possible at the beginning he was just very over-caffeinated. In retrospect, he wished he’d considered that any caffeine is too much caffeine for a child. Now, though, Tweek thought he was just too much of a pussy to face his nightmares. That or his mind would keep racing long into the night, far too long for any hopes of a good night’s sleep.

Tonight he was glad to know that he wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping. He didn’t particularly feel like going back into Kenny’s room – it was hard to call it his own room, and Tweek had already spent half the night reading and rereading his friends’ letters.

They sounded just like how his simulation friends would have written them. Token warmly held him at arm’s length, Jimmy gave him a list of fah-fantastic jokes to think about when he got sad, and Clyde turned in three tear-stained pages that Tweek felt bad for laughing at. It was genuinely touching, but after Clyde called him his _special little guy_ , Tweek had to choke down sad laughter for the rest of the letter.

Only one letter took him off guard, and it was about half the length of all the others. He didn’t think that, even if he sat and ran every possible letter-writing scenario he could come up with, he would have imagined the crumpled up sheet of paper in front of him.

_Tweek –_

_I’m glad Token is a better friend than I am. I’m sorry I knew this was happening and didn’t do anything. I think I believed you. When you talked about the government and Hell and stuff. You weren’t wrong about the gnomes. I might have even been jealous that you had a whole world to yourself. Sorry for being a dumbass. You’re my favorite friend. Please don’t leave me alone with the other guys for too long. When you feel better, I will be so happy._

_Craig_

It felt surprisingly intimate, and Tweek found himself missing Craig’s signature nasally drawl as he read the words. It just didn’t seem like Craig if he couldn’t hear the voice. Anyone could have written this letter. He had no definitive proof that any of these came from his friends until he could see them in person. Even then, they had no proof that those people were his actual friends.

Fucking dammit.

It always got so much worse at night.

He read through the letter again, praying just a touch of Craig’s presence would help keep the anxiety away, but it didn’t. He knew it couldn’t. Tweek hadn’t even been to therapy yet, but he knew that a friend, no matter how good a friend, was not a cure for a mental disorder.

As if the world was agreeing with him, he felt the page burn up and turn to ash in his hand. Tweek watched it, transfixed as the words contorted and changed as they burned. They became something he couldn’t understand. Maybe they even said the same thing, but Tweek couldn’t draw any comfort from them.

The ashes of the letter dropped from his hand to the ground, and Tweek’s eyes followed their descent down to his feet. The floor was no longer a cheap synthetic wood. It was dusty, volcanic stone, and Tweek felt his heart thumping as he slowly raised his eyes to face the world on fire.

The room spun around him like a merry-go-round. Tweek had become as accustomed as he’d ever be to demons, but these monsters were something worse. Young boys, ages ranging from infancy to Tweek’s own age, were chained to the walls. Children hung down from the ceiling by their feet like meat in a butcher shop.

They were all dead. That shouldn’t have been surprising. This was Hell, after all.

They were all the same boy, died a million gruesome deaths.

Tweek’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, and when he opened his mouth to scream, all the air in his lungs flew away. He felt like something was compressing his body and bending it like a stress toy. _Fuck_. He wished he could move. He wanted to run to the boys and see for sure. Maybe Tweek would believe it once he’d touched one of them.

_Kenny._

“Tweek!”

A vaguely familiar voice pierced through his inferno, and a monster’s slimy claws grabbed his shoulder and hoisted him onto a soft surface. His feet still stung from touching the volcanic rock, but as he dug his nails into the couch, he felt reality beginning to descend again. “Tweek, Tweek, open your eyes.” The hand was shaking him. “Do you need me to get Wendy?”

Tweek reluctantly blinked his eyes open, expecting to find himself still stuck in the Hell-like world. Instead, he was in a fetal position on the common room couch with his letters spread out on the floor underneath him and Kyle hovering over him in very serious concern.

Tweek shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut again. He knew he always forgot the details of what happened in these periods when he resurfaced, and he wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t forget. He had seen them all. “Kyle,” Tweek gasped out. If he couldn’t trust his memories with himself, he would have to put them somewhere else. “Kyle. Kenny. He was dead. There were so many. Jesus Christ.”

“Aw, dude, I knew rooming with Kenny wouldn’t be good for you. Don’t let him get to you with that stuff.” Kyle leaned over to pat Tweek’s head. “Kenny doesn’t die. He just gets delusions of grandeur sometimes. A lot of the time.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no! He was there! There were so many! They were all…” Tweek’s chest was heaving, and the image was starting to slip from his memory. _Fuck_. “Kyle,” he said insistently. He didn’t continue. He couldn’t even remember what he was insisting.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Ah, fuck, we knew he couldn’t handle a roommate yet. Tweek, _don’t_ let him drag you into his psychosis.”

Tweek nodded, shaking hard. “W-why can’t people room with him?”

“So many reasons, dude. All the reasons. I don’t think Kenny has ever passed by a fire and not fanned the flames. Or dumped gasoline on it.”

Tweek’s eyebrows knit together. He was having a really difficult time remembering what they were talking about now. “What did he do to them?”

Kyle stretched and cast Tweek a sympathetic glance. “It’s not just him. If you don’t play into it, he’ll be fine.”

“What did he _do_?”

He groaned. “Look, Tweek, Kenny’s had two roommates since I got here. The first one, this drug addict towel, should have never been put in the same room as another druggie. Kenny snuck him drugs and completely bankrupt him because he knew the towel would be willing to pay anything. That won’t happen to you. The other dude was just weird, and Kenny dug it. Imagine Kenny looking at someone the way Butters looks at him. That was what it was like. They just pulled each other into their delusions. Neither of those things have to happen to you.”

Tweek’s brain felt fuzzy and white. He wished he had a notepad so he could write down the things he was hearing, but he knew in a few hours, this whole conversation would be erased from his memory. He would just be left with the vague recollection that it had happened and even worse vibes about Kenny than before.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at Kyle seriously. “W-what are you doing here? Did I make noise?”

Kyle glanced around shiftily and shook his head. “No, I just don’t sleep very well.”

“Me, neither.”

He grinned a little. “Yeah, you don’t strike me as a well-rested dude. You’ve gotta turn that mind off at some point.”

_It felt pretty turned off right now._

“What do you do out here all night?” Tweek let his head fall back on the couch cushions, eyelids fluttering closed. As much as the episodes sucked while he was in them, he always got his deepest sleep afterwards. It was actually his only deep sleep ever.

Kyle looked at him speculatively, but he seemed to decide that Tweek was either completely harmless or would never remember this tomorrow. “It’s not all night. They don’t let me do a lot of physical activity here, so I like to get up at 4 so I can work out for a couple hours before the nurses wake up.”

“Why don’t they let you do physical activity?” Tweek yawned. He almost never yawned. His eyelids felt like they were about a million pounds.

Kyle grinned bitterly. “It’s a trading system. The more I eat, the more I’m allowed to move. Positive reinforcement or some Mackey bullshit.”

Tweek nodded understandingly. “You can go ahead with whatever you wanted to do.”

“You want me to take you back to your room?”

He shook his head sleepily. “No, I’d rather be out here.”

Kyle stood up from the couch. “And you’re sure you don’t want Wendy?”

This time Tweek couldn’t muster up a response other than waving Kyle away like a pesky fly.

“Alright, man. Enjoy sleep. I’ll wake you up before Kenny so he doesn’t realize you were trying to avoid sleeping in his room.” Kyle laughed a little as he walked over towards the workout supplies, not noticing Tweek’s eyes fly open in shock.

_Kenny_.

That was why everything was weird.

Jesus fucking Christ.


	5. M'Kay

Tweek was not accustomed to deep sleep. Hell, he was barely accustomed to sleeping the night at all, but he knew that if he were to sleep, it would be filled by nightmares and constant reawakenings until he got so anxious that the whole idea of sleep just didn’t seem worth it anymore.

He always kept an alarm set for 6 am when he was home. It felt like a rope to tether Tweek to the real world as he slept. No matter how bad his nightmares got, he knew he couldn’t get trapped in them because he knew the alarm would rescue him and wake him up eventually. Maybe it robbed him of a few nights of deep sleep, but that was nothing compared to how bad one nightmare could be if it went unregulated. When Tweek’s now reoccurring satanic dreams were beginning (before they had escaped his dreams and followed him into the waking world), his iPhone alarm had failed to go off one morning, and he’d been stuck in that hellish world until eventually his eyes blinked open naturally a few hours later. After that, Tweek had insisted on buying multiple alarm clocks just in case one of them ever failed him again.

It was always a bad sign when he felt himself begin to stir naturally. For a beautiful second, he felt rested and calm. He knew something was off, but his brain was working too slowly for him to put his finger on what was wrong. Tweek yawned and rubbed his bleary eyes, feeling his heart begin to speed up as he realized what had happened. No alarm had gone off. He hadn’t had an alarm. He wasn’t in his house.

He was in a psychiatric hospital. He’d slept with an armful of crumpled letters clutched to himself like a teddy bear. Jesus Christ, he’d slept in a public place holding his personal letters. That didn’t happen. Tweek knew himself. He knew he wouldn’t fall asleep like that. They must have drugged him. He didn’t put it past Dr. Garrison, and there was just no way his body had chosen last night out of all conditions to finally let him have a dreamless sleep.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows and yawned again. Maybe it wasn’t so bad if they’d drugged him to sleep. Maybe his only problem was that he didn’t get enough sleep, and he could be home playing video games with Craig, Clyde, Token and Jimmy in no time. That was a nice thought, and Tweek was desperate enough for a moment to hope that it was true, but a ball of lead in the pit of his stomach was suggesting that something bad had happened last night that was running a few feet out of reach of his memory. Dr. Garrison drugging him was a reasonable explanation. With what Tweek had seen of the doctor, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d given him an anal probe. He was probably in for one later that day if he hadn’t already gotten it last night.

No, that wasn’t it. Dr. Garrison was weird, and Tweek didn’t trust him, but he knew his body well enough to know what it felt like the morning after an _episode_ , as his parents chose to call it. It was like he knew factually that it had happened and what had set it off if anything, but then it felt like he had blacked out or lived a nightmare and forgotten it, and everything afterwards felt like an incredibly vivid dream. Kyle had shown up at some point, Tweek was sure, and he was pretty sure Kyle had said he would wake him up in the morning.

That’s why you never trust human alarm clocks.

His brain started buzzing with possible reasons why Kyle hadn’t been there to wake him up, and it thankfully pushed any thoughts of last night out of mind. The most reasonable explanation was that Kyle hated him and had been lying because he wanted to avoid Tweek as much as possible. The second most reasonable explanation was that Kyle was dead. At around reason ten, Tweek wondered if maybe Kyle had just forgotten his promise. Reason eleven – maybe that conversation hadn’t happened at all? It could just have felt like a dream because it was a dream.

Tweek pushed himself up fully. If Kyle didn’t hate him and was actually dead or in trouble, Tweek couldn’t just lie on the couch and let it happen. The common room slowly came into better focus, and Tweek realized bitterly that this must have been the third night in a row he’d slept with his contacts in. He did that all the fucking time, and his parents never failed to let him know that he was going to go blind or get pinkeye or something if he kept forgetting.

“Hi, Tweek!”

He started and snapped his head in the direction of the voice. Tweek hadn’t even noticed Butters sitting on the couch across from him with his face buried in a picture book with an expression on his face like he was halfway through the best novel of all time; he’d have to work on his situational awareness. That easily could have been a murderer sitting there for five minutes while Tweek had woken himself up. Butters easily could be a murderer too. He’d let his guard down, and he was lucky he wasn’t dead. “Hey, Butters.”

Butters gave him a warm smile. Tweek would not have been surprised if he turned out to be a murderer. No one acted that sweet all the time without some dark secret. Maybe he wasn’t lying about his multiple identities, and Eric Cartman actually was Butters. _Fuck._ He had to stop watching fucking M Night Shyamalan movies. It wasn’t Tweek’s fault if Clyde thought every single one of them was mind-blowing.

“Kyle asked me to wait for you and bring you to breakfast. Is that okay? Are you hungry?” Butters tossed the book to the side and stood up. “Do you wanna shower and stuff first? I can entertain myself as long as you need.”

“Where’s Kyle?”

Butters shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Kyle has to be at the cafeteria right at eight, but he didn’t want to wake you up. Said something about how you don’t seem like you get a lot of sleep.” He smiled a little. “Kyle’s a really good friend.”

Tweek stretched, cracking his neck on both sides. “Why at eight?”

Butters shrugged innocently, but Tweek guessed he had a pretty good idea of what was going on with everyone else in the hospital. “They just like to know when he arrives. C’mon, Tweek, you want breakfast?”

He wanted breakfast really badly. Mainly because coffee was a crucial element in any balanced breakfast, and it felt like it had been days since he’d had a cup. He offered to shower and change, but Butters assured him that no one gave a shit what anyone else in the cafeteria looked like so Tweek ended up just following him down the stairs back the way Wendy had brought him yesterday.

Tweek kind of liked the inane things Butters said. He was like a white noise machine; it was surprisingly calming. Tweek was pretty sure Butters was talking about a mosquito bite he had on one of his thumbs and how it looked swollen and gross now, but he nodded like he’d been paying full attention as Butters showed him his affected and unaffected thumbs for comparison. “You should get one of those malaria mosquito nets. I sleep with one during the summer.”

Butters nodded. “That’s a real good idea, Tweek! I think I probably got this outside, but maybe I’ll do that just in case it happens again! I’d hate to get malaria.”

_I’d hate to get malaria too. That’s why I own a fucking net._ Tweek almost responded but decided it was better to just let Butters keep talking. He didn’t know how sensitive the boy was, and he didn’t want to lose the white noise.

The cafeteria felt very different when it was full of people. It was like any hospital or high school cafeteria. Butters chattered all the way through the line for food, pausing only to greet the stocky black man serving the food, and led Tweek towards a table by the window with such familiarity that Tweek would be willing to bet Suite 13 had an ongoing reservation for this particular table.

Kenny, Stan and Kyle were all already seated by the time Tweek and Butters arrived. Kenny smirked at Tweek just enough to let him know he had about a million jokes lined up for why Tweek had chosen not to sleep in the room last night, but he didn’t say anything besides a polite “good morning”. They were a lot quieter during breakfast than they had been the night before, and Tweek wondered how much of that was due to the look of mild anguish on Kyle’s face as he chewed each bite remarkably slowly. Tweek had already finished his first cup of coffee by the time Kyle had about four bites of eggs.

Every so often, Tweek noticed Stan’s fork “missing” his own plate and pulling food off Kyle’s, and he bet Kenny and Butters noticed too but were either too polite or too used to this behavior to care anymore. Butters looked slightly sad, but he didn’t say anything to stop Stan. As Tweek focused on it more, he noticed there was some kind of rhythm to the way Stan would flick his gaze around the room to see if he could spot any nurses before pulling a piece of bacon onto his own plate without even looking at Kyle.

Even with Stan’s help, the kid was not making a dent in those eggs. Part of Tweek wanted to tell him to suck it up and eat because it wasn’t difficult or anything, but he could imagine what it would feel like to be told to suck it up and sleep. Not good, probably.

“You’ve got five minutes left, Kyle,” Kenny said finally. “Just suck it up and eat. It’s not difficult or anything.”

Tweek blinked a few times. That was _weird_.

Stan frowned at him defensively. “Don’t rush him. He’s got this.”

“I’m right to rush him. He has five minutes. That is what one might call a _time constraint_.”

Kyle groaned and let the fork fall out of his hand with a clatter. He muttered a few obscenities at Kenny as Stan massaged his shoulder calmingly. “Thanks, Kenny. Your encouragement really made everything much easier for him.”

Kenny shrugged. “Four minutes, now.”

As Stan opened his mouth for an angry retort, Tweek slid out of the bench and grabbed his empty coffee mug. He’d been here less than a day, and already the fighting between the boys in his suite was getting oppressively old. He paused for a second to ask if anyone else wanted a refill, but Kenny slid his empty mug towards Tweek without waiting for an invitation. “I take it black.”

Tweek stared back at him for a second before begrudgingly grabbing the cup. “I would have brought it to you black anyway.” He wished desperately his voice didn’t always come out like a nervous squawk, especially in comparison to Kenny’s blunt yet eloquent speaking patterns, but he was playing with the hand he was dealt. He was a squawker. It was hardly his worst attribute and definitely not the worst of all the other people at this table.

Kenny had acted like it was a game to try to guess what was wrong with the other patients in the hospital, and Tweek thought that was horribly insensitive, but he caught himself doing it as he passed by tables full of other teenage boys picking at or tearing through their breakfasts. It wasn’t fun exactly, and Tweek had very little knowledge of psychiatric disorders because every time he read about one, he would immediately diagnose himself with it until he realized it would be better to just have a big gap in his knowledge of the world right there. Now his only knowledge of mental illnesses came from news articles on breakthroughs in research or on serial killers hoisting some of the blame onto their mental disorders while simultaneously making the whole world worse for everyone with that same disorder. It was some pretty fucked up shit, and it wasn’t one of Tweek’s typical anxieties (abduction, murder and brain invasion definitely fell at the top of that list).

He bumped into Wendy at the coffee machine, who was using one of those disgusting pre-made cappuccino machines guiltlessly. As if it wasn’t a complete affront to real, black coffee. He’d forgive it because it was Wendy, but the idea of drinking that frothy, light brown coffee impersonator made his stomach lurch.

“Hey, good morning, Tweek!” she smiled warmly at him and took a delicate sip of the scalding liquid. “I saw you last night – sleep well?”

He nodded nervously, not taking his eyes off her cappuccino. “I guess so.”

She grinned. “Maybe next time you can sleep well in your own room. I think you hurt your roommate’s feelings.”

_I’m not sure if my roommate has feelings._ “That’s the goal for tonight.”

Wendy glanced over her shoulder. “It looks like the nursing table is clearing out. Mind if I come finish this with you guys?”

He furrowed his eyebrows together. Did she really need to ask permission or was she just an exceptionally polite girl? Still, Tweek nodded. He opened his mouth to make a smooth response like _standing invitation_ – anything Kenny would have said in this position – but he didn’t have to worry about sounding like an idiot if he just nodded.

She asked him a few polite questions about the conversation after she’d gone to bed last night, but Tweek could only mumble a few half-hearted responses. Something told him he didn’t want to think too hard about what happened after Wendy went to bed last night.

Tweek had made a mistake. He didn’t know if it was his fault. How was he supposed to anticipate this happening? Still, as he approached the table with Wendy, he couldn’t help but feel sick with fear and guilt as he watched Stan scoop up most of the remaining food from Kyle’s plate and shovel it into his own mouth without checking for nurses. The way Kenny was holding up two fingers suggested he was still in his five-minute countdown.

“You can stop having my Wellbutrin if you’re going to keep making Kyle uncomfortable during meals.” He shoveled in a mouthful of eggs. “Fuck you, dude.”  
Yeah. Tweek had made a mistake. Stan and Kyle both had their backs to Tweek and Wendy, but he’d managed to catch Kenny’s attention. Kenny reluctantly dropped his hand and folded them in his lap, doing his best to look chagrined.

“ _Stan?_ ”

Stan paused with his fork halfway to Kyle’s plate. He retracted his arm hesitantly and turned around to make eye contact with a shocked Wendy.

“You… Wellbutrin… is that Kyle’s food?” Wendy was staring at the table in horror as if these were not the same boys she’d laughed with all last night. Stan opened his mouth to respond but shut it again, watching her helplessly. “You need to come with me. Kyle, Al is over talking to Chef right now if you want to go have some Ensure instead.” It didn’t sound like she was just offering.

Stan nodded in complete submission, leaving his tray behind as he stood up to follow Wendy. Kyle sat completely still for a second before slamming his fist on the table and stalking over to the chef’s station.

Tweek stared at Kenny as if he’d been trying to play Jenga with a house of cards. “Does that happen a lot?”

Kenny leaned forward to eat a bite of eggs off Stan’s plate. “Nope. Never.”

***

“M’kay, Mr. Tweak, I want this to be an informal and welcoming as possible. Do you feel comfortable?”

Tweek was seated in something uncomfortably similar to a child’s stool, and it looked like Mr. Mackey had decorated his office specifically with posters on anxiety disorders. Of course he didn’t feel fucking comfortable. “Sure.”

“Why don’t you tell me how your first day’s been going?”

_Well, I didn’t get to say bye to my friends. I live with a criminally insane monster who escaped and put the whole hospital on lockdown. There’s something wrong with my roommate, and no one will tell me what it is. I also saw two of the boys in my suite get taken away during breakfast today and haven’t seen either of them since._ “It’s okay.”

“You’re, hm, adjusting well? Do you like the other boys?”

“Butters is very nice.”

“And what are your friends like outside the hospital? The ones who checked you in?”

“They’re all really cool. If anything, I’m their token weird friend.”

“Mm, yes, I’m sure you are.” Mr. Mackey paused to stare at Tweek seriously. “Would you prefer if we just dove in then?”

Tweek nodded emphatically.

“Would you like to begin anywhere specifically?”

“Isn’t that your job to decide what we talk about?”

“Well, no, Mr. Tweak. I’m here for guidance. This is a place for you to speak, and I can listen and respond.”

“That’s just a conversation.”

“Yes, I’d like to have a conversation with you.”

Tweek leaned back in his stool before he felt the back legs teeter dangerously. “Okay.”

“M’kay?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Mackey paused for a second and flipped through the chart on his lap. “Well, if you don’t have any particular things you want to bring up, I suppose we can go based on this.”

“I don’t abuse amphetamines. Or any drugs.”

Mr. Mackey raised an eyebrow.

“Dr. Garrison said possible amphetamine addiction. That’s wrong.”

“Oh, yes, well, Dr. Garrison says a lot of things. We did not assume you had a drug problem from your friends’ testimonials.”

His friends had told them things about him? Like what? That seemed like a crucial bit of information they could have added to their letters. “Because you wouldn’t let me room with Kenny if I did, right?”

Now Mr. Mackey looked surprised. “I’m not quite sure what you’re insinuating there.”

“He used to live with a drug addict, right?”

“I’m not allowed to disclose any information on previous or current patients, but I do urge you boys to stop gossiping about each other’s therapy sessions.” He shuffled some papers aimlessly. “I can assure you that we did discuss your rooming situation, and we thought it would be mutually beneficial to put you together with Mr. McCormick.”

“Mutually beneficial?”

Mr. Mackey nodded seriously. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Tweak, I’d prefer not to discuss other patients during your sessions unless it’s pertinent to this week’s therapy”

“Okay.”

“M’kay?”

“M’kay.”

“Let’s start at the beginning then, shall we? Your friends said they didn’t remember any time of your life before the, ah, _twitchiness_.”

Tweek nodded.

“Did you actively notice it starting to worsen as you got older?”

“The twitch?”

“Sure.”

“No, that’s always been the same.”

“And your other symptoms?”

Tweek craned his neck to get a view of the chart. “What are my other symptoms?”

Mr. Mackey clutched it closer to his chest. “Tentatively, we believe you have problems with insomnia, paranoia and dissociations. Did you notice any of those symptoms worsening with age?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“All of them.”

“In what sense, Mr. Tweak?”

Tweek looked confused. “Those symptoms worsened with age.”

***

Tweek was pleasantly surprised to see his side of the room had been completely cleared out by the time he got back from Mr. Mackey’s. He could robotically unpack for a few hours and forget about everything that had just happened. Not that it was particularly traumatizing – Tweek just didn’t want to think too long about how he would be doing something like that every day for an indeterminate amount of time.

There was a sudden movement on the other side of the room, and Tweek spun around, his “fight-or-flight” response kicking into over gear immediately. He breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when he realized it was just Kenny. He should have probably assumed it was Kenny from the beginning. Tweek would have to get used to an unannounced person in his room if he was going to have a roommate.

“Yo, dude.” Kenny nodded at him. Tweek hadn’t seen that particular smirk on Kenny before, not that he’d known him long enough to know which smiles meant what, but it made him shudder unconsciously. “Knock much?”

“It’s my room, too!” Tweek was going to add that it wasn’t like Kenny had been doing anything private before Tweek got there, just reading magazines, but his eyes traveled down slowly to reveal Kenny’s hand still moving back and forth slowly and _what the fucking fuck_. Tweek’s eyes snapped back upwards, turning bright red. “Don’t fucking do that while I’m in the room! What’s wrong with you, dude?”

Kenny shrugged a shoulder. “I thought crazies didn’t have to care. Let’s get some good with the bad.”

“ _What?_ ”

His head rolled back and smirked a little at the ceiling. “You know they used to think masturbation was a sign of insanity because at all the old nuthouses, the patients would just be jacking off all over the place, but really they just didn’t have anywhere private to go and all the well-mannered, normal people wouldn’t admit they did it behind closed doors too so everyone just equated crazy people with masturbation. I think they thought it was a causal factor or something.”

“So, what, you’re honoring your forefathers?”

Kenny barked out a laugh. “That’s a good way of putting it.”

“You do have private places you can go!”

His eyes were beginning to glaze over as he watched the ceiling, and Tweek inched a little closer to the door. If this was some kind of standoff of wills, Kenny had clearly won. Tweek wasn’t going to fight much longer if it meant staying in the room. “I was in one of those private places until you got here.”

“Lock the fucking door!” Tweek tugged on his hair anxiously. “Do that later!”

Kenny grinned. “I’m very politely waiting for you to leave before I finish. You’re the one who’s staying.”

Tweek let out a few incomprehensible protests before cursing hard at Kenny and storming back into the hallway.


	6. Rage

“I feel like a boulder.”

“Is that good?”

“Not just a normal boulder, either. A really chill boulder. Completely covered with moss. And maybe some Miyazaki-style forest creatures climbing on top of it and stuff.”

“Sounds like you’re cured, then, huh?”

“You know the things I’m talking about, right? Their jaws kind of twitch and rattle?”

“I’m familiar.”

Tweek rolled onto his back and tried to mimic the motion he was describing, not even flinching when his jaw made a sickening popping noise. Kenny, sitting cross-legged on his own bed, was making a valiant effort to stifle the high-pitched, mocking laughter that threatened to burst out every time his newly zen roommate made another comment raving about the effects of benzodiazepines. Tweek got the vague sense he was being ridiculous (or at least was being perceived as such), but he didn’t really care. According to Kenny, that was the beauty of his medication. He no longer had the physiological ability to care, and judging by Kenny’s ecstatic response to Tweek’s list of prescriptions, he was assuming that 4 mg clonazepam was a good amount. A lot, in fact. Tweek had studied his friends for years now wondering what it would be like to have his anxiety under control, and it seemed like Dr. Garrison had overshot “under control” and landed somewhere around “nonexistent”.

“Those movies are my fucking favorites.”

“You an anime guy?”

Tweek shook his head slowly back and forth. “I just really like his movies.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “I feel like I could have guessed that without being told.”

“Do you like it?”

“Anime? Sure, I guess. Y’know, my ex always had this theory that you can divide the world in half based on whether or not people think anime characters are hot. It was a really big deal to her like why exactly anime got sexualized and not normal cartoons. I think she was just trying to get me to stop jacking it to anime porn, but from my perspective, that’s _more_ respectful to her than if I’d been watching live action porn stars.”

“I meant Miyazaki specifically.” Tweek furrowed his eyebrows together as he stared at the ceiling. “Not that.”

“Oh, word. Yeah, I like the one where the girl goes to the creepy demon bathhouse because a witch turns her parents into pigs? You’ve seen that one?”

“That’s _Spirited Away_. I like that one, too.” Tweek yawned a little. “It’s really popular.”

“Sorry. Guess that wasn’t very hipster of me. Which is your favorite, then?”

Tweek shrugged. “I don’t know. That one’s really good. It might be my favorite, too.”

“Back off, man. I already chose that one.”

Tweek tilted his face towards Kenny just enough for him to see a small grin ghosting Tweek’s lips. “Okay, then he has this other one. It’s kind of about like industrialization and deforestation and stuff like that. That one can be my favorite.”

Kenny grinned back. “I’ve seen that. My friends and I tripped and watched all his movies once. I can’t remember why we did it, but I definitely remember that one. It’s more about just, like, rage, right?”

“Rage at deforestation and industrialization.”

He snorted loudly. “Word, well, that’s a good choice. Resonates well.”

“Were you always super angry?” It wasn’t the kind of question Tweek would ordinarily have asked. It encompassed a lot of his least favorite things – serious discussions, talking to Kenny, emotions. Then again, he wouldn’t have to care for eight to twelve hours.

Kenny looked startled. “I don’t know if I would describe myself as super angry. Wait until you meet Cartman. Or Kyle on a bad day. Or Butters when he’s feeling brave and honest. I just think Miyazaki was right. Rage kills the self.” Kenny cracked his back. It was a habit Tweek had noticed increasing in both of them even from Tweek’s measly two days in the suite. Last night, Tweek had cracked his back _perfectly_ , and he could have sworn he heard Kenny breath an actual sigh of relief when he heard the satisfying noise.

He couldn’t exactly remember if he still hated Kenny. He definitely did not have the capacity to hate anyone right then. He didn’t know if Dr. Garrison was going to keep up this barrage of medication during his whole stay in the hospital, but it was definitely impossible to hate at this particular moment. Tweek also didn’t know if he totally liked that, but that didn’t really matter at the moment either. Kenny had expressed surprise that Tweek so compliantly took his first dosage, and Tweek had been a little shocked at himself too, but morbid curiosity over whether or not Dr. Garrison really was trying to poison him had won over.

Whatever got Tweek to this point aside, at least now everything was pretty great.

The bed was comfortable, the temperature in the room just high enough that Tweek got the inkling the atmosphere was trying to hug him, and Kenny wasn’t miserable to talk to. Maybe that was how Kenny had become a drug addict in the first place. Tweek had felt Kenny’s disposition change just a little when Tweek had collapsed in his bed and announced dramatically that Dr. Garrison was trying to kill him through overmedication, rattling off a list of different benzodiazepines and other anxiolytics Tweek now had access to. It was like Kenny had the ability to become the drug that his friends were on. Kenny had joked it was a contact high, but it struck Tweek more as Kenny’s own twisted form of empathy.

Realizing he’d been silent in contemplation for a longer period of time than he had the ability to gauge accurately right now, Tweek murmured a vague, “maybe it’s a different kind of rage.”

Kenny nodded and leaned back against the wall. “There’s… yeah, probably. I’m angry, I guess. Just not like them.”

“I didn’t even realize Butters could get angry. Or Kyle.”

Kenny smiled a little wistfully. “Yeah. He does it more when Cartman’s around. He’s a big angry tears type of guy. Kyle is always pretty angry, I think. He might be more like me.” He tugged on his bottom lip thoughtfully, peeling off a layer of dry skin. “He’s just too passive.”

Tweek knew what Kenny was talking about. Since Stan had been taken away by Wendy during breakfast the day before, Kyle hadn’t done anything but lie catatonically on his bed with a few screaming and/or crying fits throughout the day to keep things interesting. He hadn’t joined them in the cafeteria once, and Kenny and Butters speculated that he would be put on feeding tubes within a day if he kept this up. “Do you think we’re going to see Stan again?”

“Man, I have no idea.” Kenny heaved a sigh, and Tweek would have sworn that this was empathy. “There’s really no set protocol for separating two patients. At least no good protocol.”

Tweek rolled onto his stomach to watch Kenny curiously. “That’s what happened to you with your old roommate too, right? What’s happening to them now?”

“I can’t really tell what’s happening to them now, dude.” He pulled another piece of skin off his lip, and Tweek winced.

“That’s a gross habit.”

“I don’t really know what happened with me and my roommate then, either, though,” Kenny continued vaguely, ignoring Tweek’s insult. “It wasn’t this sudden. He got switched to a different room first, and we had some IPT. When nothing changed, _then_ , poof.”

“IPT?”

“Interpersonal Training Therapy. It just meant we had a bunch of our sessions together, though. It wasn’t like formal. We also weren’t Stan and Kyle. We did, like, exist separately.” Kenny popped the piece of skin in his mouth and chewed on it like he was lost in very deep thought. Tweek wanted him to snap out of it so he could acknowledge how gross he was being, but watching Kenny’s “contact high” was pretty interesting too.

It occurred to Tweek then that he might be able to get away with just flat out asking “ _who the fuck was Damien, and what about him made you so weird?”_ , but the opportunity was ripped away by the sound of a crash and loud, angry voices in the hallway. Kenny sat bolt upright and stared at the door like a dog sensing an intruder.

_“Why the fuck would_ you _get to come back and not him?”_ Tweek could identify that voice as Kyle, sounding shriller and angrier than he had ever heard him before.

_“Chill out, faggot. Jesus, I just got back.”_

_“I’m not going to chill out. You should be gone.”_

_“Did you ever stop to think maybe he didn’t get discharged, and he just like, died or something? They probably just know you can’t handle the truth.”_

_“He’ll die if he gets discharged!”_

_“Kyle, seriously, dude, I just got back. I want to fucking sleep. Go, I don’t know, fast for Ramadan or something.”_

_“I’m Jewish!”_

_“Okay, Jew boy, whatever! Does it really matter which of the religions I hate you are? No. It really doesn’t.”_

_“You bigoted piece of shit. I honestly can’t fucking wrap my mind around a world where Stan has to go and you get to stay.”_

_A pause._

_“What, Stan left you? About fucking time.”_

_“No, you retard! He was taken away! We were… what the fuck! We were just talking about this!”_

_“K-Kyle, his brain is still a little wonky. I think you should lay off Eric. It’s not his fault this happened.”_ That was Butters, now. Tweek pushed himself into a sitting position, angling his right ear to the door as Kenny had done his left.

_“It’s the whole fucking hospital’s fault this happened!”_

_“What happened?”_

_“Shut the fuck_ up _, Cartman. No one gives a shit about your electrocuted brain cells right now.”_

_“It’s nice to hear you talking so much, Kyle!”_

_“Shut up, Butters! Fucking God!”_

Tweek watched Kenny nervously. He bit on his fist like he was about to start roaring with laughter at Butters’ annoyingly persistent sunny disposition then caught Tweek’s eye and mouthed the name that Tweek had been dreading encountering since he got to the hospital. _Cartman_.

“Should we go out there?” Tweek whispered across the room, trying not to be drowned out by the flurry of insults Kyle was spitting at Cartman.

Kenny smirked. “Damn, you actually want to go out there right now? Maybe Garrison actually hit the jackpot with whatever you’re on.”

“Clonazepam.”

“Word, right. All the ‘zepams are basically the same.”

“But should we go?”

Kenny shrugged. “You looking for a closer view?”

Truthfully, Tweek knew Cartman would be his most frightening until Tweek had actually laid eyes on him. Not just because the other boys in the suite had made fun of his physical appearance every time he came up in conversation – drugs were an imperfect solution to a mental disorder, and Tweek could feel the first tickles of anxiety running down his spine as he sat and imagined what this sociopathic behemoth would look like in person. It would definitely be a lot easier to handle now, too. Waiting for the boys in the hallway to simmer down necessarily entailed waiting for the anti-anxiety medication to wear off.

So he just nodded, and Kenny grinned like he understood Tweek’s thought process perfectly. Tweek didn’t expect Kenny to realize the other boys in the suite (Tweek included) didn’t just view Cartman’s return as some nice after-dinner theater.

Kenny grabbed an orange hoodie from the foot of his bed as he stepped out into the overly air-conditioned hallway, and Tweek stumbled after him quickly. He didn’t anticipate how off his center of balance was going to be, and he ended up gripping the doorframe as his vision spun and turned fuzzy black for a few seconds before settling back on the scene at hand.

Butters was hovering in the doorway of his room, and an exceptionally large brown-haired boy was trying to step past Kyle to reach Butters (or, more accurately, the room that he was in). The boy looked a little too dazed to fully match the fury on Kyle’s face, but he was definitely not pleased to have met this disruption.

“Cartman!” Kenny called genially. “The morbidly obese, vanishing man! How are you? How’s that brain treatin’ ya?”

The boy, Cartman, turned to Kenny and narrowed his eyes. “It’s fucking fine.”

“Memory in A+ working condition?”

Cartman flipped him off. “I said, it’s fucking _fine_ , Kenny.”

Kenny’s lip curled up. “Really? Because you’re looking at your friend Tweek like you don’t even remember him.”

Cartman stared at Tweek scathingly. “No,” he grunted as if that were any kind of a response. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Tweek!” He glanced at Kenny, who nodded encouragingly. Tweek wasn’t sure what exactly Kenny wanted him to do, but he was willing to play along. “We sat next to each other in the cafeteria everyday for weeks!”

Kenny positively beamed at Tweek, with Butters also smiling a little bit at his poor acting skills. It did occur to Tweek that he didn’t want to get on the wrong side of Eric Cartman, but, at least right now, he trusted Kenny. The other boys in the suite clearly went out of their way to make fun of Cartman, too, and they were all alive. For now.

Cartman looked back over his shoulder to glare at Butters, but he managed to wipe the smile off his face before Cartman spotted it. He even looked a little concerned like he would have if Cartman really had forgotten an acquaintance of multiple weeks after one session of ECT. Butters was better at this than Tweek would have given him credit for.

“I knew that,” Cartman grunted finally. He looked livid as he struggled to play along with Kenny’s games. “Hi, Creek.”

“Tweek,” Kenny corrected gently.

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Now that’s just silly. What the fuck kind of name is Tweek?” He glared around the group, but none of the boys budged.

“The one his parents gave him?” Kyle said finally.

“That’s so funny, Cartman, you had this exact same conversation with him when you met him the first time.” Kenny grinned at Tweek. “You two should really just do nicknames or surnames or something.”

“Why, yeah, what’s your last name, Tweek?” Tweek could spot Butters pinching his thigh to keep a smile off his face.

“Tweak.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Cartman burst out. “You guys are clearly fucking with me. Tweek Tweek? I’m not fucking dumb. What’s your name actually?”

Tweek looked at Kenny for guidance. The name had been the only thing they weren’t lying about.

“The second “Tweek” has an a in it. Like Tweak.” Kenny pronounced the homophones with such a serious expression on his face that Tweek had to bite down giddy laughter.

“You’re all being fucking immature.”

Even Kyle was smiling a little, but it seemed like positive emotions tired him out faster than the negative ones because he just flipped Cartman off and stalked back into his room. Tweek was just happy Kyle managed to get out of bed and be coherent at all. His hatred for Cartman must have been a really good fuel.

“What crawled up his vagina and died?” Cartman sneered, redirecting the subject.

Kenny sobered up a little. “Stan’s gone, dude. Is your memory really that wiped?”

“No, I knew that!” he snapped quickly. He paused to collect himself before declaring, “I saw him before I came here!”

Kenny’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, _really_. They don’t have unlimited private rooms in this two cent hospital. He was right fucking next to me.”

Kenny paused. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“It doesn’t really fucking matter if you do, does it? I don’t believe you, either. Fucking Tweek Tweak.”

Butters reached out to touch Cartman’s arm. “This is real serious, Eric. You were really with Stan?”

“Yeah, Butters-for-brains. I was.”

Kenny snorted (in appreciation of the nickname, Tweek supposed). “How can we fucking trust your memory, dude? You’d never admit if you were wrong anyway.”

Cartman focused a glare on Kenny that would have, if Tweek were being totally honest, probably have made him wet his pants to be on the receiving end of. A sickening feeling prodded at his stomach, asking Tweek if Kenny’s quick game had ever fooled Cartman at all. “Stan got discharged. Didn’t need to take his meds, was hurting other patients, he’s out. I’d suggest never trying to lie to me again if you expect any more information out of me.”


	7. Group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** i don't really use trigger warnings because this is south park so everything's okay or nothing is, but characters make fun of suicide attempts in this chapter **

Tweek was rudely pulled into the waking world by rough hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him. He let out a small groan, burying his face back in his pillow, but that pillow was quickly ripped out from underneath him.

"Tweek, dude, you gotta wake up. You're gonna miss group."

He groaned again. His brain felt so slow. Waking up was just not in the cards for him right now. The doctors should have been more sympathetic of his need to sleep if they were going to prescribe him enough sedatives to knock out Eric Cartman. 

"C'mon, dude. Up and at 'em. Rise and shine. Early bird." The hands gave him another rough shake, and Tweek's fist involuntarily extended to connect with something sharp. "That was my fucking jaw, man! Wake the fuck up or I'm dumping ice water on you."

His eyelids fluttered open reluctantly. Kenny was kneeling next to him on his bed, still gripping his shoulders, and Butters hovered behind him with Tweek's missing pillow in hand. "Give it back," Tweek muttered groggily.

"Don't give it back, Butters."

"Maybe we should just tell Mr. Mackey he needs some sleep? I think he'd be supportive."

"Hell no, dude. He has plenty of time to sleep when he's dead or sleeping. Group is the best part of the week." Kenny gave him another shake before sliding back off the bed. "No fucking way you're skipping your first one."

"Let me sleep," Tweek groaned uselessly. It was a losing battle at this point, but he'd fight it nonetheless. "What time is it?"

"It's like 2 pm. I appreciate your newfound ability to nap, but group is only fun for me if everyone goes." Kenny rolled his eyes as Tweek flipped him off and turned so his back was facing Kenny and Butters. "Man, even Kyle got out of bed. You're officially the suite's resident bitch if you sleep through this."

Tweek groaned dramatically and kicked off his blankets. "I'm so sleepy."

"Yeah, dude. You've been prescribed enough sedatives to knock out a baby elephant. Or Eric Cartman." Kenny grabbed him by the arm and yanked upwards, effectively pulling Tweek into a sitting position.

He blinked at Kenny in confusion. Kenny had proven himself time and again to have the uncanny ability to voice all the thoughts Tweek had that were too mean to say out loud. "Fine," he mumbled, swinging his legs off the bed. He teetered to his feet, gripping Kenny's shoulder for support. He never expected to enjoy being medicated at the very least due to the fear of having toxic substances in his body, but Kenny had been right. They were great. The only things he could do without were the unprovoked anxious fluttering in his stomach whenever he felt a pill beginning to wear off and the total loss of a center of balance.

Although, after the novelty value of being anxiety-free had worn off, Tweek did have a troubling feeling that a part of him was being stifled rather than cured. Dr. Garrison hadn't given Tweek any real information about how long he intended him to follow this medication regime, but Wendy had dismissed clonazepam as a bandaid solution. Even Kenny had warned him about how addictive benzodiazepines were, but Tweek guessed he had done it as a scare tactic so Tweek would share his medications with him.

It had only been a day of heavy drugging, but he’d had already gotten accustomed to the feeling that, whenever he started to worry about whether or not he should take the medication, it was time to take more. It felt a bit like he was sprinting ahead of his anxiety as it struggled to catch up with him and force him back into the shadowy world he’d escaped.

He had to wonder if he could actually be cured without being forced to experience any of the feelings. It was sort of the exact opposite of exposure therapy, and people seemed to like exposure therapy for anxiety disorders.

Fuck it. Tweek yawned, trying to push the negative thoughts out of his mind. Maybe he wasn't receiving the best treatment possible, but this definitely _felt_ better than the best treatment would. 

Butters wordlessly passed him a pair of boots, and Tweek tugged them on. "Why do you guys like group so much?" One-on-one therapy wasn't particularly fun. It wasn't as bad as Tweek had worried it would be, but he didn't look forward to it.

Kenny grinned wolfishly. "You'll see."

"It's real nice, Tweek! It feels like being in _The_ _Breakfast Club_." _The Breakfast Club_ was one of ten DVDs that the hospital gave the suite, and Tweek had begun to notice that Butters only made pop culture references about those ten particular movies. "Which member do you wanna be?"

Tweek shrugged helplessly. "I only watched it once, and that was like ten years ago."

"Oh, jeez! We should watch it tonight!"

"Sure, Butters."

Butters did not stop chattering about which character Tweek would be as he allowed himself to be led out of his room and down the hall. For some reason, Tweek had been expecting a specific room dedicated to group therapy. Instead, Kenny just plopped down on one of the couches in the common room and motioned for Tweek to join him. Kyle and Cartman had already taken the seats most distant to one another, and Mr. Mackey sat on a fold-out chair in front of the TV, completing the circle of couches.

"That looks like everyone's here so let's get started, m'kay? Now, I know a lot of things have changed in the past few days. You got a new suite mate, you lost an old suite mate - does anyone have anything they feel the need to say before we dive in?"

Tweek looked around the circle curiously. Kyle was grinding his jaw; he probably had a lot of things he felt the need to say, but he'd also probably been saying all those things for two days straight while under constant supervision from the nurses. Cartman and Kenny both looked disinterested, and Tweek accidentally made eye contact with Butters, realizing he wasn't the only person in the suite who liked to examine what other people were doing when no one was paying attention.

"Nothing? There've been a lot of changes. What about you, Tweek? This is your first group meeting here."

Tweek shook his head. "I'm fine."

Mr. Mackey looked disappointed. "M'kay. Then let's begin. Ms. Testaburger and I have planned a special session for today in light of your friend Stan's recent release from in-patient care." Kyle sat up a little straighter at the mention of Stan's name, and Mr. Mackey seemed reluctant to continue. "We thought that it would be helpful for everyone here to hear from Stan himself about his battle with depression then have an open discussion with him about some of the things we've covered in group since his arrival here."

Kyle was sitting bolt upright now. "Stan is here? I thought he wasn't allowed to visit for a month."

"Yes, Kyle, that is true, but we do like to give our recently discharged patients a solid sense of closure. Stan expressed interest in attending a final group session so we are honoring that request. Ms. Testaburger will be here with him any minute."

"That's bullshit," Kenny spat suddenly. Tweek had been so hyperfocused on Kyle, assuming his reactions would be the most interesting in the room, that he hadn't noticed Kenny's increasingly tense posture. "There was no special Goodbye Damien group session when he got sent off."

"Stan specially requested we do this, Kenny."

"So you'd let Damien come to a meeting if he asked?"

Mr. Mackey cleared his throat. "I think we should discuss this further in a private session, Kenny. I don't want to detract from Stan's last day."

"No, fuck that. What Stan did was way worse than anything Damien did. Why does he get to come back?"

"What did Stan do that was so bad?" Kyle snapped back. "He got discharged because he was healthy."

"Wrong. He got discharged because he was healthy _enough_ , and it was an easy way to get him out of the hospital where he was eating anorexic patients' food and giving his medication to former drug addicts."

"Don't falsely pluralize! You're that drug addict, Kenny."

"And I'm very grateful to him. You can't deny that he did his share of damage before-." Kenny abruptly stopped, eyes flickering to the doors of the suite as they opened and Wendy led a nervous Stan Marsh into the room. Butters scooted over on the couch so Stan could sit between him and Kyle, and Stan immediately rushed over to pull Kyle into a hug. Their relief at seeing each other was so evident that Tweek felt the need to look away and give them some semblance of privacy. It genuinely sucked that their goodbye had to be in front of all the other patients and staff.

"Hello, Stan," Mr. Mackey greeted him calmly, effectively pulling his attention away from a frantically whispered greeting to Kyle. "It's very nice to see you again."

"Great to be back," Stan muttered dully. It felt like it had been much longer than three days since Tweek had last seen him, but Tweek also barely had time to meet him before he'd been discharged. In retrospect, they really hadn't spoken to each other at all.

"Hi, Stan!" Butters burst out, enveloping him in a tight hug even though Stan didn't pull his arm away from where it was wrapped around Kyle's shoulders to respond. "I missed you an awful lot! It's been real lonely without you here."

"Missed you, too, Butters."

Mr. Mackey smiled like this was heartwarming instead of the annoyance to him Tweek knew it was. Wendy's smile, on the other hand, was a lot more genuine as she sank into the couch next to Tweek and gave his shoulder a small squeeze hello. 

"Well, this is a sweet reunion." Tweek hadn't noticed the door opening again, but he'd recognize Dr. Garrison's sarcastic drawl anywhere. "Hello, Stanley. Back so soon?" He took a seat on the couch next to Cartman and folded his hands in his lap expectantly. "Sorry I'm late, Mr. Mackey. Did I miss anything interesting?"

"Mm, no, Stan here was just saying hello to the other boys."

"Hi, Dr. Garrison." Tweek had to wonder if Stan was always so standoffish with Dr. Garrison in his sessions or if he just felt like he could show the full extent of his anger now that he wasn't in-patient anymore. He had been the only other patient in the suite that Kenny hadn't specifically called out for anger problems, but his frustrations had to get channeled somewhere.

"Did you prepare those parting words about your stay here?" Dr. Garrison looked at him calculatingly. "A speech? Maybe some flashcards with notes? Anything?"

Stan met his gaze unflinchingly. "No, I was just going to wing it."

"Well, that sounds lovely." Dr. Garrison settled back in his seat. "Wing away, then."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, uh, well. I'm Stan, um, in case Tweek's forgotten."

"I hadn't!" Tweek assured him just as Kenny responded "hi, Stan" in a robotically sing-song voice like he was in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

"Hi, Kenny. Um, so I've known most of you for your entire stay here. I can probably remember the day each of you arrived. Except Cartman because I've repressed it."

"Ay!"

"It feels like I've known most of you a lot longer than that, though. I came here a year ago back when my parents thought this was going to be a one-week stint over Christmas break before going back to school, and, um, it lasted longer than a week." Kyle smiled appreciatively at his lame attempt at humor. "It feels kind of weird to talk about this stuff like you all don't already know."

Wendy reached across the floor to touch Stan's knee. "Don't feel like you have to talk about anything you're not comfortable talking about," she said gently.

"I'm more concerned with being redundant." Stan heaved a sigh. "Okay. So, shit kind of sucked before I got here. My girlfriend just broke up with me, my parents were getting divorced, I couldn't make myself get out of bed most days so I started failing out of school and lost my spot on the football team. Ah, so, I tried to kill myself. A couple times. Obviously, none of them took."

"It's not that hard to die," Kenny muttered. He might have been intending only Tweek to hear, but Stan stopped talking to shoot him a dirty glance. "What? It isn't. How'd you try? I can give you some pointers for next time."

"That's enough, Kenny," Wendy hissed. "That's not funny."

"Please let Stanley tell us his boring story in peace, Kenny."

Stan was still glaring at Kenny as he resumed speaking. "The time I got caught, I’d tried aspirin and vodka."

"ODing is the pussy way to commit suicide," Kenny interrupted again, ignoring the glares he was receiving from everyone else in the circle. “You know there’s some statistic that women have more suicide attempts but fewer suicide successes because they tend to go down the drugs and alcohol route whereas men use, like, guns and jumping off shit and stuff?” He leaned back into the couch, face expressionless as he examined the mixture of shock and disgust on everyone’s faces. “Fun facts.”

“Kenny, I think you should go to your room.” Wendy looked to Mr. Mackey and Dr. Garrison for backup. Dr. Garrison actually looked interested in what his patients were doing for once, and Mr. Mackey was clearly cursing the god who gave him both Eric Cartman and Kenny McCormick in his suite.

Now Tweek understood why Kenny liked group so much. He also remembered why he’d gotten bad vibes from him in the first place.

“Kenny, you need to promise not to speak out of turn, m’kay? If you interrupt again, we’re going to send you to your room.”

“Mr. Mackey, I hardly think the problem was that he spoke out of turn. Are you paying no attention to the content of what he’s saying?” Wendy looked the most horrified Tweek had ever seen her.

Stan glared at his hands. “Whatever. He can stay. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?” Wendy looked at him very seriously, but Stan just nodded.

“Thanks, Stan.”

“Fuck off, Kenny. Anyway, they found me. Took me to get my stomach pumped. I went back home. I tried to jump off the roof a couple days later – is that how you kill yourself like a man, Kenny?” Stan paused to shoot Kenny a dirty look, but Kenny just smiled innocently.

“It is, though.”

“Kenny, we said be quiet!”

Tweek felt himself edging away from Kenny on the couch, and Kenny apparently noticed too because he looked at Tweek with what he could’ve sworn was real hurt in his eyes.

“After that,” Stan said loudly and deliberately. He looked bored just telling the story, and Tweek couldn’t help but admire Stan’s emotional distancing. It was hard to imagine him being depressed when he just seemed so flat all the time. Maybe that was what depression looked like, though. Tweek had no idea. “They put me in an in-patient facility for a few days, and I did really well but immediately had a breakdown when they sent me home so my mom and I decided that it would be better to be in a long-term facility.”

“Do you want to talk about why it was hard for you to be home, Stan?”

“Nope, not really. That’s just the real world. There’s no stress in here. I made, like, friends here who didn’t give a shit if I were an athlete or popular or anything. I guess, without stress, the depression just kind of turned into apathy. I was supposed to leave as soon as the antidepressants became effective, but I never wanted to.” He and Kyle exchanged a borderline telepathic glance. Tweek couldn’t help wondering how much of his stay here was due to not wanting to face the real world as opposed to not wanting to leave Kyle’s side.

Stan ran a hand through his hair. “I guess they realized the antidepressants were feeding into my apathy so I got switched to Wellbutrin, but it was too much of a stimulant, and I always had a crash at the end of the day so I stopped taking it.” Kenny grinned a little. “I assumed I was going to lose all my progress, but I managed to be medication free for two months without any major depressive episodes. So, um, yeah. I think everyone was on the same page that it was time for me to go home and face the real world. It’s been okay. I’m going to be two grades behind next Fall. All my old friends are graduating at the end of this year, but I kind of like not knowing the people in my year anymore. My mom’s been really nice. She’s constantly on eggshells around me, but I get it.” He looked at Mr. Mackey expectantly. “That’s it, I guess.”

“Well, that was all very mature of you, Stan.” 

He nodded tersely.

“Now, I know Stan made a big impact on a lot of us here both in and outside group. I thought it might be a nice exercise for everyone to take some time to write Stan a letter as a parting gift. It can be about anything – maybe a moment in group where he said something especially insightful, a time when he helped you, or just good wishes for the future. Does that sound like something you’d like, Stan?”

God fucking dammit. Tweek didn't know why the whole staff of this hospital was obsessed with letter writing. It seemed like the only training they’d been given was "when in doubt, make them write a letter". Aside from receiving letters from all his friends on the first day, Tweek had written not one, not two, but _three_ full letters to his parents during different sessions with Mr. Mackey (none of which, luckily, had to be sent). Tweek didn't even have a problem with his parents, but Dr. Garrison seemed determined to get Freudian with his case, and Mr. Mackey didn't have enough knowledge about psychiatry to fill a daily therapy session so he just deferred to giving his patients a pen, paper and some silent letter writing time whenever he ran out of ideas for how to steer the conversation in a constructive way. Or, to put it more accurately, every session.

Apparently the other boys had been receiving the same treatment because Kyle made an over-the-top eye roll and Stan shook his head quickly. "We can do it in person." He grinned a little bitterly. "You don't need to pretend I could have secrets here just because I'm no longer a patient."

Now Tweek understood why everyone in the suite acted like they knew everyone else's business. He had been confused at first. The boys definitely liked to gossip, but they really didn't talk about the etiology or effects of their mental disorders in casual conversation. They made vague allusions to things and assumed everyone else understood the reference, but the bulk of his conversations with the other patients had been pretty similar to how it felt talking to his friends from school. He just assumed it was a result of having lived together in isolation for so long that they slowly uncovered everything about everyone else.

Nope. It was fucking group therapy. 

It was going to happen twice a week, and Tweek would not always have Stan there to buffer all the attention.

Mr. Mackey frowned like that was the last answer he wanted to receive. “M’kay, then, why don’t we start with Butters and go clockwise around the circle. For the sake of time and clarity, please try to limit your responses to a few sentences.”

“And be respectful,” Wendy added warningly, shooting Cartman and Kenny pointed glares. “Stan is being really brave to do this all in front of you guys, and I hope you all appreciate what he’s doing for you.”

“Sorry, what’s he doing for us?” Cartman asked with feigned innocence. “I’d love to do nothing but talk about me for an hour and a half, too.”

“Not everyone is like that, Eric!”

“Yeah, dude. Stan’s not a narcissist.” Kyle reached up to grab Stan’s hand that dangled from his shoulder. “He’s not getting off on this like you would.”

Tweek twitched slightly as Butters gave Stan a shy grin. No one was trying to fight this discussion. No one was trying to keep their privacy. It may not be in this session or even in the next, but eventually everyone would be treating Tweek with the same knowing smugness they had with each other. Tweek didn't _want_ to share all of his feelings and experiences in front of the other patients. They weren't a particularly respectful or empathetic bunch, and he knew Mr. Mackey would try to make him say all the things he’d only told Craig plus the million other things he’d never told anyone.

That was way too much pressure.

And his medications were addictive bandaid solutions.

He twitched again. He could hear the blood thumping in his ears as his heart rate started to pick up. Mr. Mackey's calming drone became incomprehensible over the roar of his own anxiety. That may not have even been Mr. Mackey. Had Butters started to talk yet? Black splotches had begun to obscure his already blurring vision. Did people see what was happening to him? What was his facial expression like? It couldn't have been hard to pick up on if anyone bothered to look in his direction.

Everyone's attention must have been on Stan or Butters. Tweek wasn't sure if that were a relief or not. He pulled his gaze away from where he had surely been staring at Butters' mute yet moving lips and tried to focus on the floor, but the black splotches were beginning to get bigger. They weren't splotches at all, Tweek realized with a tightening in his chest. They were burn holes. His vision was burning up. He could see the crackling of fire around the edges of the circles now - how had he missed that before?

Something tightened around his upper arm. Did he have a clogged artery? He didn’t even know if his blood was still flowing.

Tweek was pretty sure that was not a clogged artery. He didn't think arteries lifted people to their feet and dragged them out of rooms. That seemed like uncharacteristic autonomy for any body part, really.

Eventually, the dragging and stumbling stopped, and the pressure disappeared from his arm. He felt himself collapse down again, but there was something there to catch him. Leathery hands were forcing open his jaw, and something sweet dropped onto his tongue and dissolved in his mouth.

He took a shuddering breath, feeling his body convulse in a coughing fit as the sweetness trickled down his throat. It was a new sensation to him, and somehow it felt like it was keeping the fire at bay. His world still crackled and popped around him until slowly the fire started to recede. The black splotches shrank like someone had pressed rewind on his vision, substituting a floor of fake marble where Butters' cheerful face had once been.

The roaring in his ears was disappearing, and Tweek began to hear the muffled sounds of two voices conversing like they were underwater. 

"Should I get him some water?"

"Dr. Garrison said he'd just gag on it."

"He _would_ be a gagger."

"Oh, you're bad."

The two voices laughed.

"Should I bring him back to our room?"

"Let's just give the poor little guy a minute. This should work super fast so we’ll know if it helped soon."

"What did you call these?"

"Klonopin wafers."

"That sounds delicious."

"Oh, it sounds so fattening. No, who am I kidding? I don't care. I know a certain someone who is buying wafers on his way home tonight."

"Al, you'd be beautiful at any size."

Tweek didn't know why he should be surprised to understand what they were saying, but English sounded so foreign right now. The first voice had called the other Al. That was a dumb name for a demon. It was the name for a nurse. A nurse in the hospital that Tweek was currently sitting in.

"Oh, shit, his eyes are uncrossing. Did you see that happen? That was so cool."

"What _can't_ wafers do?" A large figure knelt in front of Tweek, and he felt a hand tilt his face upwards until his eyes met Nurse Al's. "Hi, Tweek. Can you tell me where you are right now?"

"Hospital," he gasped out, surprising even himself.

"And do you know who I am?"

"Al."

"Do you know what just happened?"

"My medication wore off?"

The first person, Kenny, burst out laughing. "Perfect answer. I think he's fine."

"You were having an anxiety attack, Tweek. Can you remember what happened?"

Tweek nodded.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Tweek was silent. Could he? He definitely didn't _want_ to, especially not in front of Kenny, but he didn't even know if he would have the words even if he did want to. The world he went to was ineffable. If earthly words could work in Hell, they probably wouldn't feel like such different places. It wasn't an extension of this world - it was a totally separate one.

He could feel his body becoming more grounded in reality every second, and a small voice of reason started prodding at him, wheedling him to just _try_ to capture it with words before the memory disappeared. His doctors should know what happened. It would help him if they knew that this was happening.

"I went to Hell."

"That sounds like some anxiety attack." Kenny's voice sounded strained, like he couldn’t quite achieve his usual careless tone.

Al smiled at him gently. "You were here the whole time, Tweek. Does this happen often?"

"Yes."

"What does it feel like when you're down there?"

"It's not underneath us," Tweek corrected automatically.

Kenny laughed sharply, and Tweek pulled his attention away from Al to locate the voice. He was leaning against the desk at the nurse's station. There was something different about his demeanor, but Tweek couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't seem pale with concern like Tweek would have expected a friend to be under the given circumstances, but Tweek didn't expect Kenny to care about witnessing a dissociative episode in the same way a normal friend would. Kenny didn't look concerned, sad, scared, disturbed, anything. He just seemed tense and slightly confused. There might even have been a little awe in his gaze like he was exceptionally invested in everything Tweek had to say but unaccustomed to feeling invested in anything of this world.

"Okay, Tweek. What does it feel like when you're wherever it is?"

Tweek shook his head helplessly. "I don't know."

"No fire and brimstone and all that good shit?" Kenny was smirking, but he leaned forward, eagerly awaiting a response.

"No, there's fire." He met Kenny's eyes. For a second, it looked like they were crackling with the same ineffable qualities as Hell, but then they just looked like eyes again. He took a deep breath. Tweek was probably scaring himself because he was still dissociating – the Klonopin would have only helped with the anxiety aspects, Tweek supposed. His brain must have been projecting the last reminders of Hell onto Kenny. "There's only brimstone in some of the places."

Al handed him a miniature bottle of Poland Spring water. "Well, it sounds like you took a little trip into the collective unconscious."

Tweek paused. His brain was curling up and rejecting those words as nonsensical. "What?"

"It means that unconsciously people all tend to depict Hell the same way." Kenny crossed his arms in front of his chest. "But now because of folklore and religious writings, it's more like the collective conscious. People _know_ Hell looks like that."

"No one knows what Hell looks like," Al corrected Kenny like this was a discussion they'd had before.

Tweek was fucking confused. He was confused by the familiarity with which they talked about Hell, and he was really starting to feel the Klonopin slowing down his brain and mixing with the exhaustion and surreality always left in the wake of an episode. All he could think of to say was, "you're smarter than Garrison and Mackey."

"Oh, stop. I know I wouldn't have what it takes to do their jobs everyday."

"Yeah, but that's because you're too cool and interesting on your own to spend your life talking about other people." Kenny grinned and directed his attention back to Tweek. "He is."

"I'm blushing." If Kenny treated everyone with the respect and admiration he gave Al, Tweek would be sooo happy. The whole hospital would. Except Al, Tweek guessed, who seemed to love the flattery and probably loved that it was, as far as Tweek knew, reserved for him. "Now come on, you silly geese. Tweek looks like it's past his bedtime."

"What? How long has it been since we left?"

Al pulled out his phone to check the time. "About forty minutes. Kenny, there should still be another half an hour of group if you want to get back to it. I can bring Tweek to his room."

"Hell yeah I want to get back to it!" Any weird vibes Kenny had been giving Tweek were immediately replaced by his usual mix of mockery and apathy. "Man, I don't know if you were with it at all in there, Tweek, but Cartman and Stan were going _at it_ when we left. It was fucking hilarious. Try to time your visits to Hell a little better in the future, okay?"

Tweek looked at him blankly. "I don't remember."

Kenny's face fell. "That sucks. Sure you don't want to come catch Act Two with me?"

"I think Tweek should get some sleep, Kenny."

Tweek tried to stifle the yawn that he knew would confirm Al's suspicions. "No, I'd like to go. Did, I mean, do they all know what happened?"

Kenny shook his head. "You probably could have gotten naked and rolled around on the floor, and nobody would have noticed. Can he come, Al?"

Tweek didn't want to ask how, if that were the case, Kenny noticed _without_ Tweek getting naked and rolling around on the floor. He had probably just bumped him or something. They'd been sitting next to each other on the couch, after all.

Al sighed. "Are you sure you want to, Tweek? I think you'd feel really good after a nap."

"This may be my last chance to ever see Stan again." He estimated that it was the fifth time total Tweek had ever seen Stan, but he knew the Stan card would make Al feel guilty enough to agree. 

"Alright, then. Are you comfortable with Kenny bringing you back upstairs?"

Tweek nodded, and Kenny pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against to extend a hand to Tweek. Tweek allowed himself to be pulled unsteadily to his feet. "He's in great hands, Al."

"You promise me you'll take a nap right afterwards?"

"I'll force him myself if he doesn't." Kenny grinned and clapped Al on the shoulder. "You should come by later tonight and check on him."

Al smiled back warmly. It was so strange to see a staff member here trust Kenny. Strange, and probably irresponsible. "I just might do that. Have a good time, you two." He looked confused as Kenny led Tweek away eagerly like he was trying to assess if "have a good time" was the appropriate sendoff for someone going to therapy. 

They were both quiet til they had reached the stairwell, then Kenny abruptly let go of Tweek's hand. "So?"

"So what?"

"C'mon, dude. Don't be a tease. Hell sounds cool as shit. Tell me about it." Kenny slowed down his pace to match Tweek's as they headed up the stairs.

"You act like you already know."

He smiled knowingly. "Maybe I'm quizzing you."

"I don't need to be graded on my anxiety attacks."

Kenny held the door open for Tweek politely, his smile getting wider by the second. "That wasn't an anxiety attack."

"I don't need any new conspiracy theories, Kenny. An anti-anxiety stopped it so it must have been an anxiety attack." Tweek hoped he spoke with more conviction than he felt.

Kenny let the door slam gracelessly behind him. The sound of voices arguing in the common room was impossible to ignore as he followed Kenny down the hall, and the mayhem seemed like an equally interesting alternative to interrogating Tweek. 

Kenny was right. None of the boys even batted an eyelash as they silently entered the room and returned to their seats. Wendy eyed them suspiciously, but Kenny just mouthed _Al_ at her and directed his predatory focus back to the argument at hand.

The staff, by this point, had mostly given up. Mr. Mackey still mumbled vague comments every now and then meant to calm the boys down, but Dr. Garrison was just resting his head against the back of the couch as he watched with a half-bemused, half-entertained expression. It was not an overstatement to say that Wendy looked like she had a few fistfuls less hair than when Tweek had left the room.

Cartman was red-faced and sweating from the exertion of the argument. “You’re just afraid to join the bet because you don’t _want_ Stan to recover, Kyle. We all know he’s the first friend you’ve ever had.”

“That’s one more than you’ve ever had!”

“B-be nice, Eric. Kyle has lots of friends.”

“I just think for the sake of honesty you should tell your boyfriend you’re lying to him and waiting for his eventual relapse. Communication is the foundation of all relationships.”

“You don’t know fucking shit about us, Cartman.” Stan’s grip on Kyle’s shoulder had his knuckles white, and Tweek noticed a trashcan next to him on the floor with what appeared to be vomit in it.

“Let’s not bet on other patients’ relapse chances, m’kay?” Mr. Mackey suggested weakly. “Maybe we could return to talking about how to reimmerse yourself in family and school life. I thought you all were coming up with some really great ideas.”

Dr. Garrison rolled his eyes. “I’ll put ten dollars on a month.”

“Dr. Garrison, that is highly unprofessional!”

“What? I wouldn’t actually take the money. Not from Kyle and Butters, at least.”

Kenny watched the argument unfold like a kid about to jump into a game of Double Dutch. “Does this bet factor in that if he does relapse, he probably won’t come back to this suite? Who’s doing intel?”

“Oh, great. You’re back.” Stan’s voice deadened at the addition of Kenny to the conversation.

Kenny touched his heart fondly. “I’d never miss our last goodbye, Stanley.”

“I think saying a nice goodbye is a great idea!” Mr. Mackey suggested desperately. “This session is ending soon-.”

“We have like half an hour left, Mr. Mackey.” Kyle nodded up to the clock on the wall.

“Oh, do we? Hm.” Mr. Mackey stood up and pulled the clock off the wall, pushing the minute hand forward twenty minutes. “Oh, no! You all just lost twenty minutes of your life! Now it’s 3:50.”

Kyle stared at him, completely deadpan. “We’re not retarded.”

“Yeah, you can’t just control time!” Butters cried angrily. “Can he? Stan?”

“No, he can’t control time, Butters.”

“What do you think, Dr. Garrison? I’m reading 3:50.”

“If Mr. Mackey says it’s 3:50, it’s probably 3:50.” Dr. Garrison was starting to sound bored. “Stanley, just say your goodbyes and be back in a month so I don’t lose any money to Eric.”

“Are you shitting me?”

Kyle clutched Stan like they were going to pull him away. “You are, without a doubt, the worst doctor I’ve ever met.”

“But I _am_ your doctor.”

“You forged a medical certification from the wrong fucking country. This is a kangaroo hospital!”

Tweek was inclined to agree with Kyle, but he sure as hell was not going to say anything to draw attention to himself. Next to him, Kenny couldn’t get his giggling under control to make any additional comments.

“Hey.” It sounded like Stan was trying to silence the room, but even Kyle ignored him.

“Now, Kyle, your mother told us to call her if you were being noncompliant,” Mr. Mackey urged him diplomatically.

“Are you threatening me with my mom? I’d choose being home with her over being around you two retards in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t know, dude, I’d be pretty fucking scared. Your mom’s a bi-.”

“Don’t call my mom a bitch, Cartman!”

“ _Hey.”_

“Call her up then, Kyle! We’ll all pretend we haven’t watched you cry in group because she wasn’t fucking supportive enough or whatever faggy bullshit you always talk about.”

“Then let’s also pretend we can’t all hear you crying to Butters about not having a dad at night.”

“I have a dad!”

_“Hey!”_

“No, you have a slut mom with a dick. There’s a difference.”

Kenny was practically gasping for air. “And here I was thinking sociopaths didn’t cry.”

“I don’t know, do we, Kenny?”

He looked genuinely offended. “I’m not a sociopath.”

“You aren’t?” It took Tweek about five seconds to realize the words had left his own mouth and another five to register that the look of shock and fury on Kenny’s face was directed at him. The feeling of shriveling up and dying inside was pretty instantaneous, though.

“Let’s try to use the term “person with antisocial personality disorder”, m’kay?”

Kyle scoffed. “No one’s going to say that, retard.”

“ _Shut the_ fuck _up_!” Stan’s voice echoed in the suite as he finally managed to silence the room. “I want a chance to say goodbye to everyone.” Mr. Mackey opened his mouth to speak, but Stan cut him off. “And I’m not going to write it in more motherfucking letters.”

 “Proceed, Stanley,” Dr. Garrison said finally.

“Can I, like, talk to people privately?”

“You can either write a letter, addressed to the group, or say it here.”

“Okay, then I’m going to talk, and you’re all going to fucking listen for once.” He paused and added, “except Kyle. He can say what he wants.”

Tweek was praying the silence would end so Kenny would get distracted by the argument again, but Kenny’s glare was unwavering, and the other boys in the room actually quieted down to focus on Stan.

Stan took a deep, calming breath like he hadn’t actually expected to get this far. He probably hadn’t, realistically. “Okay.” He sighed then shifted away from Kyle slightly to angle his body directly at Butters. “Butters. You have to trust me when I say that, if this hospital changes you, it will only be for the worse. Maybe consider a developmental disorder, buddy. You very clearly have only one personality, and it’s too nice to live around these assholes.”

Butters gasped a little and looked to Dr. Garrison or Mr. Mackey for a response, but they were both silently watching Stan with surprising levels of attention and respect. Instead, he nodded and mumbled something that sounded like “thank you” as Stan turned his attention slightly left to Dr. Garrison.

“I second everything Kyle said. Any of your patients who recover probably did so due to spontaneous remission rather than any help from you.”

Dr. Garrison nodded and shrugged like this was an accurate assessment of his skills, and Stan looked a little shaky. Tweek never imagined him getting this far uninterrupted, but the whole room remained quiet as Stan shifted his gaze to Cartman.

Stan probably didn’t imagine getting this far uninterrupted either because he opened and shut his mouth a few times before addressing him. “Cartman.” He paused again, and Tweek wondered vaguely if that was all he was going to say. “I assume I did something wrong in a past life to have ended up in the same hospital as you. Everyone who meets you is unlucky. You, like Butters, are not going to find any kind of cure here, but it’s not because there’s nothing wrong with you. I have absolutely zero hope for you, and when you leave this hospital, you will be lucky if a human being ever willingly interacts with you again.” He looked like he might stop there as Cartman’s expression darkened, but he continued. “I would have been afraid to say this to you a year ago, but now I hope you try to get revenge so you can end up in prison where you belong.”

Cartman opened his mouth to respond then decided better of it, standing up and storming down the hall to his room. Had it always been an option to just leave like that? Tweek wanted to leave. He tried to keep his eyes focused on Stan, but the heat of Kenny’s glare was burnt into the back of his head.

“M-may I be excused?” Butters mumbled, and Mr. Mackey gave a brisk nod. He gave Stan a little wave goodbye as he followed Cartman quickly down the hall.

Stan waited patiently for Mr. Mackey to meet his eyes again before saying a simple “bye”.

He was looking at Kenny now. Tweek realized he was holding his breath but worried a loud exhale would draw too much attention to himself. He would have gladly held this breath for Stan’s whole goodbye if he could, but Stan was just watching Kenny silently, and Tweek couldn’t fucking breathe. Bit by bit, he exhaled the air through his nostrils.

“You were my best friend when I got here. Then I got to know you.”

Tweek had been expecting more. He might have even been expecting a full dissertation on Kenny’s fragile psyche, but Stan clearly thought he had said enough. Tweek stole a glance at Kenny, who saluted Stan with a remarkably closed off expression on his face.

When he looked back, Stan and Kyle were both already looking at him. “Tweek, man. I barely know who you are.  You seem like one of the cooler people to come through here, and I hope you’re smart enough not to wait for any good surprises.” He didn’t have to say the name for Tweek to realize he was talking specifically about Kenny.

When Stan looked at Wendy, he smiled for the first time in his path around the circle. “Go kick the world’s ass next year, okay?”

She smiled back sadly. “Bye, Stan.”

Tweek wished he had asked to leave before Stan got to Kyle. He tried to will himself into temporary deafness, but it didn’t work. Stan leaned in to whisper in Kyle’s ear, but Mr. Mackey shook his head. Stan pulled back reluctantly. Tweek averted his gaze, but he couldn’t stop himself from hearing the quiet goodbye.

“When you first got here, and Cartman was still threatening you a lot, I always promised myself that, if he did anything to you, I’d kill him. I’d kill anyone who hurt you. So. You have to eat, dude. You can’t leave me without you. I can’t kill you if you do it yourself.”

“Stan.”

“I know that probably sounds hypocritical, but I’ll hold out if you do.” There were some rustling noises, and when Tweek looked up, they were hugging tightly. “I’ll see you in a month, then.”

Kyle nodded and buried his face in Stan’s chest.

The moment was interrupted by Kenny standing up abruptly and disappearing down the hall, but neither of them pulled away from the hug to react to his departure. Tweek realized with a familiar thumping in his chest that he was the last patient remaining. When he moved to stand up, he had planned on sitting in the bathroom for a couple hours until the idea of seeing Kenny didn’t make him want to vomit, but his body brought him on autopilot down the hall to the room they shared.

Kenny was lying facedown on his bed. Tweek tried to shut the door behind him as quietly as possible, a small spark of hope igniting at the chance that Kenny was asleep or ignoring him, but Kenny stirred and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“Hi.”

Kenny stared back at him quietly. That was fine. It wasn’t like Tweek had wanted a response. The silence was barely even completely suffocating.

“You think I’m a sociopath,” he stated finally.

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You think I don’t have feelings.”

Tweek didn’t even bother fighting the inevitable reappearance of his twitch as Kenny planted his feet on the floor. “That’s not what a sociopath is.”

“No, but I know that’s what you think it is.”

Tweek wished he could have refuted that with some obscure (and possibly false) fact about antisocial personality disorder like he knew Kenny would have if he were in Tweek’s place, but he actually couldn’t. That _was_ what he thought it meant. “I don’t think you and Cartman are alike or anything.” _Because you remind me more of what I think a sociopath is than he does_.

Kenny’s eyes narrowed, and Tweek had to remind himself that, no matter how coincidental his timing had been, there was no way that Kenny could actually read his mind.

“If you thought to warn me that you don’t think that, you probably think that.”

“Stop telling me you know what I think! You don’t know what anyone thinks! It doesn’t matter if you’re a sociopath or not. Your brain is fucking _wrong_.”

Kenny was on his feet before Tweek even registered what he was saying. It was only a few steps before he had Tweek cornered against the door. It probably shouldn’t have been a relief. Tweek didn’t really get into physical fights with people. He tended to get too anxious and flee during the early, verbal stages of any fight, but he knew that he could. He had gotten into fights with bullies and even occasionally some of his friends before, and he rarely lost. Craig had told him bitterly that Tweek won because he always acted like he was fighting for his life, but, as accurate as that may have been, Tweek still always won.

“My brain’s fucking wrong?” God dammit, the fight was still verbal. Now he just had the added stress of Kenny inches away from his face. “You’re psychotic, Tweek. Had they told you yet? I know they wanted to pretend it was just an anxiety disorder, but you must’ve realized that wasn’t true during one of your little trips to Hell.”

He felt the breath catch in his throat. Kenny must have read some of the disbelief in his eyes because his lip curled upwards into a very non-Kenny sneer. “Anti-anxieties are just fucking sedatives, in case you were planning on using that argument again. I thought you would have been smart enough to guess that they’re not keeping you drugged up because they think it’ll cure your anxiety. This is a fucking hospital. They’re doing it because they don’t want to deal with you having a psychotic break.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m really not. I’m pretty disappointed you didn’t figure this out yourself.”

Tweek took a deep breath. “Kyle told me you would lie to me.”

For a second, he thought Kenny was finally going to throw a punch, but he settled on smacking the door so hard the reverberations made Tweek’s spine rattle. “Kyle doesn’t know shit. I never lie. It goes against my moral code.” His face was close enough for their noses to touch, and Tweek found himself struggling to breathe as Kenny’s chest brushed against his own. “Because I have one. Because I’m not a sociopath.”

His head was swimming. He was overly medicated and centimeters away from a very angry potential sociopath, and his rational thought processing seemed to have fled. It was the only part of him that could. Kyle had assured Tweek that Kenny would lie and try to get inside his head. Why had he done that? He had been trying to calm Tweek down after he’d had an episode. _A psychotic episode_ , a small voice reminded him. He’d had a psychotic episode because Kenny had lied to him.

No, that didn’t sound right. He’d had a psychotic episode about something Kenny had lied about. That was it. Kyle had promised it was a lie even if Tweek had seen it with his own two eyes. His own two eyes or some area of his brain dedicated to visual processing but dominated by psychosis.

The realization must have been evident on his face because Kenny recoiled slightly as Tweek felt the pieces slide together in his brain.

“I’ve seen you dead.”


	8. Death Is Soo Tragic

The Tuckers had to be the only family at South Park High who still communicated all important pieces of information through their magnetic refrigerator. Token’s parents would FaceTime him from neighboring rooms of their house, and Craig’s would leave Post-Its on the fridge that Craig was just supposed to remember to check every fucking day with no promise that there would be anything besides the usual lewd messages in refrigerator magnets, a large and well-shaded cartoon of a hand flipping someone the bird (undeniably the best piece of art Ruby Tucker had ever created), a few of Craig’s sophomore final exams, and the Tucker family calendar.

Craig thought the whole institution of refrigerator conversation was stupid and outdated, and it didn’t even raise a candle to non-digital calendars. There was literally no space for writing anything. His mom had tried to color code it for different members of the family, but a one-inch square box could only fit so much text. Honestly, just use a fucking phone. That was what Craig really didn’t understand. Everyone in his family _had_ an iPhone. They just didn’t use them to talk to each other. Craig and Ruby had been on the same family plan for years before they finally exchanged numbers.

He wished they hadn’t. She only ever sent him chain texts and the middle finger emoji, and he never sent back anything. Sometimes at dinner she would actually _ask_ him if he’d seen her middle finger emoji that day. Like there was a fucking response he was expected to give.

In Craig’s humble opinion, the refrigerator calendar had one shred of value that the digital versions lacked. He couldn’t draw a big fat red X on his iPhone for every day until his best friend’s stupid fucking hospital started allowing visitors.

Craig had told his parents it was a record of how long it had been since he quit smoking. He wasn’t stupid; he knew his dad would think he was gay again. Tweek better fucking appreciate that Craig had actually given up smoking _just_ to lend credibility to this story. He’d just seem like an asshole if he came home smelling like cigarettes after such a big display of quitting.

Now he had nicotine withdrawal and six days left until Tweek could finally accept visitors. He was, to put it lightly, not pleasant for his friends to be around.

He was resigned to the wait, though. There was a strict rule that patients could not have visitors for the first two weeks after their check-in date. It wasn’t like he could just check himself into the hospital for a disease he didn’t have. Token, Clyde and Jimmy said they wouldn’t be his friends anymore if he did that. Something about it being creepy or insensitive to the other patients. Jimmy just didn’t think “spacemania” was a funny made-up disease. It was too easy a joke, apparently.

So he was pretty surprised when a Post-It showed up on his refrigerator door reading _CRAIG – HOSPITAL CALLED_ followed by a call-back number.

Thank God his parents still had one of those landlines that attached to the wall next to their fridge. He doubted that he could have waited the thirty seconds it would take to go get his cellphone from upstairs.

“Hi, you’ve reached the South Park Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center. To whom am I speaking?”

Craig held the phone at arms length like he was genuinely surprised to hear the girl’s voice on the other end. Token always made fun of Craig used the phone like a grandpa, holding it a foot away and shouting all his responses, but only the cool grandpas even knew how to use phones, right? “This is Craig. Who is this?”

“This is Wendy. How may I help you today, Craig?”

“I got a message that I should call you. I’m the emergency contact for Tweek Tweak.”

“Oh!” She sounded suddenly flustered. “Yes, of course, thank you for calling back so promptly, Craig.”

“Is Tweek okay?”

“The South Park Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center would first like to stress that is very sorry, _although not legally liable_ , if any of its facilities in any way made a patient feel physically or mentally unsafe.” It sounded like she was reading off a script.

“I didn’t ask if you were legally liable. I asked if he was okay.”

“I’m afraid there’s been a death in the hospital, Craig.” He felt himself choke on a gasp. “Not Tweek himself! His roommate took his own life.”

Oh, thank fucking God. Okay. That was still pretty sad. He just didn’t really care beyond being aware that it was sad. There was something about not knowing the person who died that really put into perspective how not tragic death could be. Like, come on. Everyone does it eventually. It just sucks for the people who get left behind, and Tweek’s roommate didn’t really make Craig feel left behind.

 _Like, come on_. God dammit. Craig hated the way his friends had catchphrases. It was a pretty self-indulgent thing to do. It was cute for things like Clyde screeching “agh, Jesus Christ!” or “that’s way too much pressure!” in a spot-on Tweek impression, but Craig would be sooo sad if he started accidentally talking like Jimmy.

“You should really lead with the “Tweek’s not dead” part next time.”

“Well, fingers crossed there is no next time.”

“So why are you calling me if he’s okay? Shouldn’t you be calling his roommate’s emergency contact?”

“Um, well. Tweek is doing just fine _physically_. I just wanted to let you know that we’re going to allow him visitors starting today.”

His heart practically jumped out of his chest. “That’s amazing! I mean, not the death part. I’m so sorry for your loss. Of course we’ll be in today!”

“That sounds wonderful. And, um, Craig?”

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to disclose that Tweek was, um, _in the room_.”

“In what room?”

“The room where his roommate… um.”

Craig paused. “Was this while the roommate was also in that room?”

“Yes.”

“Was the roommate dead or alive while Tweek was in the room?”

“Um, both, I suppose.”

His eyes widened. “Did his roommate have the _transition_ from alive to dead while Tweek was in the room?”

“Yes.”

“… And was Tweek awake during said transition?”

“Yes.”

“ _Oh_.”

“I look forward to seeing you today, Craig. Would you like to give us the numbers for any of his friends or family we should reach out to, or would you like to take care of notifying them yourself?”

“I’ll notify them myself. I’ve got to run, but I’ll be there soon.”

He hung up the phone without waiting for a response and darted up the stairs to his room. Craig wasn’t entirely sure if this was one of those times when tragic circumstances ruined otherwise good news, but he felt kind of guilty. He was literally trembling with excitement because a guy died in front of Tweek, and all the guilt he felt was because Tweek was probably extremely upset. Someone had _died_.

But, then again, he _did_ get to see Tweek again six days before he thought he was going to.

Death was tragic. Death was soo tragic, but eight days without Tweek around had kind of sucked too.

***

“Are you sweating from driving too fast? I know you didn’t run here.”

Craig brushed sweat off his upper lip self consciously. “Fuck yourself, Token.”

He had called Token from the road to ask him to pick up their other friends, and even with his delayed start time _and_ the additional time spent picking up Clyde and Jimmy, Token’s “batmobile” had still beat Craig’s run down pick up truck to the hospital. He’d pulled into the parking lot to find his friends leaning nonchalantly against the side of Token’s car in a way that screamed “we actually just pulled in a minute ago, but we’re trying to pretend we’ve been waiting so we can laugh at you”.

Clyde let out an obnoxiously fake yawn, and Craig instinctively flipped him off. “I saw your car pull into the parking lot like five seconds ago.”

He hadn’t actually seen the car pull in, but from the look of shame on their faces, Craig was correct in assuming that they had just arrived at the hospital, too.

“Suh-so, you guys,” Jimmy began hesitantly as he followed the others towards the hospital. “Wuh-what’s the standard _sorry someone duh-duh-died in front of you_ gree-gree-greeting?”

The automatic doors opened so the four of them could shuffle into the hospital, and Craig was slightly taken aback by the question. He hadn’t actually planned what he was going to say to Tweek. Hell, for all he knew, Tweek was absolutely falling apart right now. Why hadn’t he prepared anything to say?

He was used to comforting Tweek during his anxiety attacks or staying up with him for nights on end when insomnia held Tweek prisoner, but this was new territory. Tweek’s friend had died, and Craig had absolutely no idea what he was going to say about it.

The dark-haired girl from Tweek’s check-in looked up from the nursing desk and smiled widely as she caught sight of the four boys. “You’re Tweek’s friends, right?” she exclaimed welcomingly. Token nodded, and she pushed a clipboard towards them across the table. “Could you all fill out this sheet when you check in and then sign out again before you leave? It just makes it much easier for me to keep records.”

Token smiled at her as he accepted the clipboard. “Of course, Wendy.” It was almost endearing how smitten he clearly was with this girl he had met twice as of today. Just the fact that he could remember the name of the nurse from a week ago spoke a lot about the impression that she had made on him.

He filled out his information and passed the board around to their friends. Wendy collected the sheet and skimmed it quickly before looking back up to the boys. “Okay, great! I can take you back to his suite now if you’d like to follow me.” She stood up and gestured with her head for them to follow.

Token was only a few feet behind her as she walked off towards the elevators, catching up quickly and instigating a conversation that Craig couldn’t quite make out. From the smiles on both of their faces, they seemed to be getting along quite well. Craig fell into step beside Clyde with Jimmy hobbling quickly behind them.

Clyde’s sweaty hand clasped Craig’s as they walked off the elevator on the third floor, immediately facing Suite 13. They were finally going to see where Tweek had spent the last week of his life, and, if they were unlucky, many more weeks ahead.

God, Craig really hoped they weren’t unlucky.

Wendy led them down the hallway to a closed door and gave it a smart rap. “Hey, Tweek?” she called, pressing her ear up against the door. “How are you?”

There was no response from inside the room.

Token frowned. “Are you still keeping him in the room where, y’know, it happened?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. Definitely not until we get the bloodstains off the walls, anyway.” She sighed deeply. “Whoever thought it was a good idea for mental hospitals to be all white was sorely mistaken.” She knocked on the door again. “Tweek, are you awake? Your friends are here.”

“Come in,” a voice muttered weakly from the other side.

Wendy smiled at the four boys and pushed the door open so they could enter. Craig was taken aback. Tweek was lying, staring up at the ceiling, and he could only ever remember that monotonous a voice coming from Tweek the morning after an all-nighter when he was simply too exhausted to make any inflection. Tweek rolled onto his side at their arrival, smiling weakly. “Hi, guys.”

“Tweek!” Clyde pushed past Craig and Jimmy – ignoring the universal rule that pushing people on crutches is inevitably a bad idea – and launched himself onto Tweek’s bed. Craig couldn’t deny that he was a little jealous Clyde got the first hug, but Tweek’s response was so weak, he couldn’t help feeling a little tug on his heart. He definitely would not have been okay receiving that little enthusiasm from his best friend.

Token scratched his messy blonde hair affectionately. “How are you holding up, buddy?”

Tweek nodded. “Y’know.”

That was his only response. Craig had honestly never seen his best friend come across as so flat. It was a startling transformation for only a week in a hospital, but he was guessing time seemed slower in here than it did in the outside world.

Sensing Tweek’s lack of responsiveness, Clyde and Jimmy launched into what Clyde and Jimmy did best – nonstop questions and jokes until Tweek was forced to give adequate responses. For awhile, things felt comfortable. Things were always more comfortable when Clyde and Jimmy dominated the conversation. Token was too shrewd to shrug off the knowledge of what had happened, and Craig had too much to say that he couldn’t say in front of their other friends. Something about Tweek just seemed so dead.

As they tried to coax a conversation out of the boy, Craig noticed Token’s eyes flickering around the barren room. One side looked like it had been fully moved into. There was a bulletin board with photos of an emaciated red-headed and various friends and family members, he assumed, and posters for a few bands that Craig was guessing were too cool for him to recognize. He had never really gotten into music besides the stuff his friends had forced down his throat, but he definitely admired people who explored all the options out there.

What caught Token’s attention, and, by proxy, Craig’s, was a whiteboard on the back of the door that had a schedule drawn on it. There was a key at the top that said “Tweek” in red marker and “Kyle” in blue. His eyes scanned the schedule for all the red markings. It wasn’t too much information. Therapy sessions, meal times, and a few scientific works Craig didn’t understand the meaning of - _clonazepam, Latuda, beta blockers, temazepam_. If his life depended on it, he would guess that it was the schedule of when Tweek had to take his medications considering the blue schedule had a few names Craig could recognize – Xanax and Cymbalta, which he was pretty sure had been prescribed to Ruby before the doctors dismissed her middle school depression as simple teen angst.

Token had clearly had the same thought process because he had sneakily pulled out his iPhone and was looking from the board to his Safari app and back again. He stopped on one website, his eyebrows narrowing as he read the blurb. A weird expression had come over his face. Craig would have made fun of him for looking constipated, but judging from the way he looked from the board to Tweek then back to the board again, whatever Token had found was not a laughing matter.

Tweek didn’t seem too aware of what was going on around him, and his friends were loud enough to claim his full attention as Token surreptitiously handed his phone to Craig. It was open to a google search for the word “Latuda”. Now Craig understood the look of surprise on Token’s face. It was listed under the “antipsychotic” class.

Tweek wasn’t psychotic. Sure the kid was weird, and his anxiety ran away with him, but Craig couldn’t hear the word psychotic without imagining Tweek in a hockey mask hunting them all down one-by-one. That was not Tweek Tweak.

Craig handed the phone back wordlessly, making understanding eye contact with Token. They had a conversation in silence for a few seconds. Token raised his eyebrows as if to ask if they should bring it up, and Craig imperceptibly shook his head “no”.

That did explain the flatness, though. Craig may not have known much about psychiatry, but he did watch _Shameless_. That gay kid was hot as shit, and he vividly remembered how flat the character was whenever he took his antipsychotic medication.

He felt a rush of sympathy for his friend. It couldn’t be that the only thing that could cure him would also take away all the personality that made him Tweek. The doctors had to do better. Craig was lacking when it came to understanding the severity of situations, but he knew that if this new version of Tweek was preferable to the old one, Tweek must have been much worse than they had assumed.

“You two have been awfully quiet,” Clyde said, turning around to interrupt Craig and Token’s newfound telepathy. “Join the conversation.”

“Then get the fuck off the bed so I can sit next to him,” Craig demanded, pulling Clyde up by his shirt collar. Clyde growled and squirmed but eventually let Craig take the seat next to Tweek.

Tweek’s blank facial expression brightened a little as Craig sat next to him, and he allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. “How are you doing, buddy?” Craig whispered in his ear before pulling back out of the hug.

Tweek shook his head sadly.

“I’ll come by tomorrow so we can talk without these dickheads around, okay?” he promised in a low voice. Tweek forced a smile, pulling him into another hug.

“Whispering only goes so far when I’m standing two feet away from you,” Clyde muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Have fun with your special Craig and Tweek bonding time. It’s cool. My feelings aren’t hurt or anything.”

“If your feelings aren’t hurt, I did my job wrong.”

The conversation was less exciting than Craig had hoped for, mainly because most traces of Tweek’s personality seemed to have been hidden under a thick layer of medication. In the end, it sounded more like a normal conversation between Clyde, Jimmy, Token, and Craig with the cloud of Tweek’s sudden change looming over them.

Jimmy, always a surprisingly good talker, managed to wheedle some conversation out of Tweek as he questioned him incessantly about every aspect of the hospital he could think of. They didn’t bring up the roommate, assuming that was Tweek’s decision whether or not they would talk about it, but they did manage to get the run-down on the other patients and staff in the hospital.

Clyde held up a hand to pause Tweek as Wendy’s name came up. “Hold the phone – that’s the girl Token’s obsessed with?”

“I’m not obsessed with her,” he bristled. It was weird to see a black man blush, but Craig was pretty sure that’s what was going on.

Tweek smiled slightly. “She’s the best staff member here, Token. Good choice.”

“I bet you Token’s going to be visiting a lot more in the future,” Clyde drawled, wrapping an arm around Token’s shoulders.

He was shrugged off almost immediately. “I would, but I think Craig would be mad if I tagged along.”

Now it was Craig’s turn to blush. Was this a game of hot potato for who had the most embarrassing crush in the room? He knew Token didn’t mean it seriously. They were a group of five teenage boys who hung out almost exclusively with each other. Of the five of them, only Clyde and Token had ever had serious girlfriends. Of course they made gay jokes all the time. That didn’t mean they thought Craig was actually gay, right?

He was. He didn’t really care if they knew that he was, but he wanted to be the cool “wow, that came out of nowhere!” type of gay rather than “ugh, okay, thank god you’ve finally admitted it”.

If Clyde were in a mental hospital, Token would probably have been just as protective over him as Craig was over Tweek, he assured himself.

If Jimmy were in a mental hospital, the four of them would be politely concerned. It sucked to say, but the group had paired off into two clear twosomes and Jimmy on his own. Jimmy didn’t seem to mind. He had this habit of retreating into his own brain whenever people weren’t paying attention to him then would start maniacally giggling with no warning. Craig had learned this meant Jimmy was rehearsing his own standup in his head. No one found Jimmy as funny as he found himself, but it was nice that Jimmy had a best friend, too. Even if, again, it was just his own mind.

Tweek raised dull eyes to smile at Jimmy as he noticed the boy’s unprecedented giggling. “Have you gotten any new material since the last time I saw you?”

“Tuh-try this one on for size, fellas.” Jimmy cleared his throat, an unnecessary gesture since they all knew he would start stuttering immediately anyway. “ _People keep teh-teh-telling me to check my puh-privilege, but I checked it this muh-muh-morning, and it was still there._ Token inspired that one.”

“I don’t have to check my privilege. I’m black.”

“Ah, fuck you,” Clyde slapped at him weakly. “You have more money than all of us combined. I find it unfair that you get to play the minority card too.”

“I’m handicapped,” Jimmy shrugged.

“And I’m full-on insane,” Tweek muttered vaguely. He had immediately caught the attention of the room, but he didn’t seem interested in pursuing the topic any farther.

The funeral service for staff and patients only was going to take place in an hour so they were forced to wrap up their conversation rather quickly. Tweek continued to make vague, cryptic comments throughout the conversation, but he didn’t even seem aware that he was saying them. He was much more interested in hearing Clyde describe how he’d been decimating the other boys in Call of Duty now that Tweek wasn’t there to kick his ass or Token talk about how lucky he was that he didn’t have to take Calculus this semester so they would all be around to help him once he got discharged.

No one said the thought that was on everyone’s minds. The chances of Tweek getting discharged soon, especially in light of these new antipsychotics, seemed slimmer and slimmer. Craig had been sure it was just an anxiety disorder. He didn’t know what signs he was supposed to look out for, but Tweek had definitely been anxious. Wasn’t that all there was to it?

He promised himself he’d start reading more about his friend’s condition when he got him. If nothing else, he had to know how much hope to have for Tweek. Tweek was his best friend in the whole world, but Craig was a pragmatist. If Tweek was sinking deeper into some kind of psychosis, he would eventually no longer be the boy who Craig had befriended in the first place.

Maybe that was mean. Maybe that was exactly what people meant when they talked about friends turning their back on one another when they needed someone the most. The psychosis couldn’t parasitically dominate Tweek’s whole personality.

The psychosis was a crucial part of Tweek’s personality. The medications, however, seemed like they had the ability to wash away whatever made Tweek into Tweek.

Craig had almost zero experience with any of this, but he had watched his aunt die of cancer. He’d been really young, and he just couldn’t understand it. The chemotherapy seemed like it was making everything worse. Everything she did that made Craig cringe, his mother told him, was more an effect of the chemo than of the cancer itself. It was like the cure had to put the person through more than if they just let the disease take over.

Still, that wasn’t an argument against chemotherapy. It was how to cure cancer.

Tweek’s antipsychotics might have been the reason why Tweek had become so difficult to understand, but they were what he needed to be on right now.

The boys talked about their typical nonsense until they were interrupted by another knock at the door. “Come in!” Token called eagerly, shooting a glare around the circle as if daring them to make a joke about Wendy.

The boy from the photos, Kyle, entered the room nervously. He smiled warmly at Craig and his friends and stuck his hand out for a shake. Craig was mildly impressed that this skeleton could handle such a firm handshake when it looked like his ribcage could barely handle his pounding heart. Tweek had been vague about what brought Kyle here, probably because he himself didn’t know.

He’d said that he asked Kyle if it were related to models and the media, and Kyle looked disgusted at the suggestion. The only information Tweek could pry out of Kyle was that the issue really lay with the food itself rather than any body image issues. Tweek himself had gone through a phase in tenth grade where he had avoided food for weeks for fear of being poisoned so he hadn’t pushed any further in the conversation.

Craig understood. He had a little sister, and if that had taught him anything, it was that it was never, ever worth bringing food up around her. Sure, Ruby was a naturally attractive and intelligent girl. He didn’t expect her to get insecure about something he considered so girlish, but Craig assumed it was safest to just never broach that conversation. He’d stick with insulting the things that didn’t matter like her moral fibers or lack of friends.

“Hey, Tweek, the service is going to be in twenty minutes so visiting hours are over for today. Sorry to interrupt your reunion, guys.”

Token nodded understandingly. “Of course. Some things are more important.” He turned back to smile at Tweek. “We’ll visit you again soon, okay? Once Craig’s stopped monopolizing you.”

“You can come, dude. I know you just want to wait at the nursing station the whole time anyway.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but she’ll realize if I come to visit Tweek and never actually go see Tweek.”

Tweek pushed himself out of the bed with a yawn. “Do we have to dress up for the service, Kyle?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you bring a suit to a mental hospital?”

Tweek shook his head.

“Then, nope. You don’t have to dress up for the service.”

Tweek paused to give all of his friends hugs and mutter quick goodbyes as they filed out of the room. Craig promised, once again, that he would be there by himself the next day. He got the feeling that Tweek would open up a lot more when he wasn’t faced with all four of his friends at once. Craig knew he was the person that Tweek had always gone to when he needed to talk about his problems. He wasn’t the kind of person who liked to ration out a little bit of crazy for each of his friends. He knew Craig would be there to lightning rod the entirety of it so he could go about the rest of his life in relative peace, and Craig knew that Tweek was secretly thankful for it although they never talked about it in such depth.

Craig, last one out of the room, paused with his hand on the doorframe. When he turned back to catch a final glimpse of Tweek, Kyle was fighting a losing battle taming down some vicious red curls, and Tweek struggling with tearing open a single dosage packet of Latuda. He paused and reached out for it, tearing the packet apart before handing it back to Tweek.

He wouldn’t say it was worth his friend being on antipsychotics just to receive the smile that Tweek flashed him, but it was definitely the best result he was going to get out of it. Unless, of course, Tweek actually recovered. That was clearly the ideal result.

***

Things felt a lot less tense the next day Craig visited. He wouldn’t have to compete with his friends for Tweek’s attention, and the atmosphere just felt lighter somehow. Yesterday all the patients and staff had seemed weirdly grim. Craig couldn’t exactly remember why. They might’ve been angry that Craig, Token, Clyde and Jimmy had snuck in to see Tweek before his two weeks were up.

Why _was_ Craig allowed to be here? He remembered coming the day before. The two-week rule must not have been as strict as he thought.

He grinned as he walked into Tweek’s room, finding the boy standing in the middle of the room and looking around with a mixture of confusion and horror on his face.

“Tweek, dude!” Craig pulled him into a hug. “How’re you doing? Did you move everything in last night?”

Tweek shook his head. “No, this was my old room.”

“Old room?”

He looked at Craig suspiciously. “Was this the room you visited me in yesterday?”

“I have to tell you, dude, this is a hospital. All the rooms look identical. Your roommate’s decorations look a bit different, I guess. Did you both switch it up?”

“That’s my _old_ roommate’s stuff, Craig.”

“Old roommate?” Craig raised an eyebrow. He had seen Tweek get worked up about useless conspiracy theories before. The underpants gnomes had haunted him from elementary school to high school. He knew that he was one of the only people in Tweek’s life who didn’t regard his theories as immaturity or insanity, and he knew that Tweek appreciated it.

Still, there was something really weird about his disposition today. This was grimmer than he had ever seen Tweek. “I didn’t expect to wake up in here,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“Where’d you sleep last night?”

“My room with Kyle!”

“Oh, was that the red-haired kid we met? He was nice. Is he around a lot?”

“I was living with him, Craig.”

Craig was completely confused. “I thought we were just hanging out in his room?”

“No. They moved me there because… because…” Tweek looked dazed as he examined the nearly identical room around him. “Where’d all the blood go?”

“What blood?”

“There was blood everywhere, Craig!”

“Are you feeling okay, Tweek?”

Tweek looked at him with an expression of complete anguish. “You don’t remember, do you? No one remembered. I asked Kyle why I didn’t wake up in his room last night because I thought he’d moved me to this room, and he said I had never been in his room. I was in his room, wasn’t I?”

“Well, physically.”

Tweek sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands. “Craig, something really bad is going on.”

Craig hovered over him anxiously. He was used to talking Tweek through panic attacks. This was different. He seemed completely level-headed yet simultaneously torn apart. The medications definitely could not be blamed for this reaction. “What is it?”

“Did you meet my roommate yesterday, Craig?”

“No, dude, we were hanging out in Kyle’s room. I told you that.”

“That was my room!”

“But… all of your stuff is in here.”

Tweek started shaking his head furiously. “This is wrong, Craig. This is wrong. I promise you. Something happened.”

“Tweek, dude, calm down. What happened?” Craig took a seat next to him on the bed and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “Everything seemed fine yesterday.”

“You don’t remember the… the service?”

Craig looked at him blankly. “I thought you had to leave for your therapy session?”

Tweek groaned into his hands. “Fuck, dude. Fuck. They were right.”

“Who was right?”

“It seemed so real, Craig. I promise you. It was real.”

“ _What_ seemed real, Tweek?” He really hated when the boy got too caught up in his own head to communicate in a way that made sense. “Everything seems exactly like how we left it.”

Tweek looked at him like something Craig said was a huge betrayal. For the life of him, Craig couldn’t figure out what he had done. They’d visited Tweek, hung out in Kyle’s room, and then he left to go to therapy, and Craig had promised he’d be there the next day. It was now the next day, and Craig was there. It seemed like everything had gone according to plan.

So why was Tweek so upset? It was kind of nice to see him showing an actual emotion as opposed to lying there flatly like he had the day before, but he seemed absolutely torn apart. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I was wrong.”

Craig nodded slowly. “Okay, dude. Don’t be embarrassed to tell me anything, okay? Token and I, ah, saw what your medications were for. I just wanted you to know that that’s totally okay. No stigma.”

He nodded like he was in pain. “I’m psychotic, aren’t I?”

Craig frowned. “I’m… not sure, dude. You’re still adjusting to all your medications. That should take some time, right?”

“No, I am. I know I am.” Tweek buried his head in his shoulder, and Craig wrapped his arm around him. This was what he wanted. Intimacy with absolutely no conversation necessary. It seemed like what they both needed, and it was really all Craig could provide. No one had ever complimented Craig for his skill with words besides commenting on how few words he had to use to get a point across.

He couldn’t guess how long they stayed like that. Sometimes Tweek started sniffling, and Craig would pet his hair comfortingly til he quieted down so they could sit in silence again. It could have been five minutes or an hour, but eventually they were interrupted by the door swinging open without a knock.

Tweek sat bolt upright. “Who is it?”

“Relax, dude. I told you I wasn’t going to knock on my own door. Put a sock on it if you’re masturbating or crying. Them’s the rules.”

Craig looked away from Tweek to see a tall, blonde boy with mischievous blue eyes. He wore a tattered orange hoodie and jeans ripped all the way from his calf up to his lower thigh. His smile was laid back and welcoming, but he seemed to put Tweek on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

He raised a confused eyebrow at Tweek’s attempt to stutter out a response and turned his attention to Craig. “What’s up, dude? I’m Tweek’s roommate, Kenny.”


	9. Majority Rules

Okay. First thing’s first. Craig Tucker did not give a shit about his appearance. That kind of stuff was for girls (or Token and Clyde). His gayness was saved exclusively for liking men. The fact that he had been ranked first on multiple lists girls made of the hottest boy in school gave him just enough ego to know he never ever had to worry about that. It was easy to pretend he was apathetic when he got such tangible evidence he didn’t have anything to worry about.

So he was in no way threatened by this fucking golden angel that had entered the room. That would be stupid and immature. Craig was definitely not wishing he could have the girls at his high school rank the two of them. That would be jealous and petty. It was super lucky Craig was none of those things.

Someone had told Craig once that he scared them because he always looked like he had such a perfect read on everyone. Something about his stare that bore into souls or bullshit like that. Craig thought that was hilarious. He had absolutely no opinions on anyone. He just assumed most people were full of shit in some way or another and was unsurprised by everything he saw or heard. He had found kids he liked. He wasn’t antisocial or anything. There wasn’t a problem with not having any interest in getting to know new people just to find out what their special, unique brand of shittiness was. That was fucking dumb.

So his first impressions of Kenny were limited to repressed jealousy about his appearance and the curiosity about what it was this boy could do that reduced Tweek to the panic he was currently in.

Craig wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be attending to Tweek because Kenny was looking at him like nothing was happening, so he settled for extending his hand to shake Kenny’s. “Craig.”

Kenny smiled at him. There was nothing unsettling about the smile except for the fact that he had done it while the boy he was living with was clearly gasping to breathe a few feet away. “I always wondered what Tweek’s friends would be like out of here. I have to say, you are _really_ unanticipated.” He was starting to laugh a little, and Craig was a little taken aback by how candid this kid was being. “Like of all the people I’d imagined being Tweek’s friend group. Never. Holy fuck. What are the others like?” He was actually laughing. It didn’t seem mean-spirited or anything but Tweek was practically dying.

Craig really wanted to take care of him, but Kenny’s nonchalance was contagious. Maybe this was just a thing Tweek did here if his roommate was so calm. Then again, his roommate could just be an asshole.

“What others?”

“I mean Tweek’s friends. What’s the gang? What’s your thing? Are you the hot one, or does it get better?”

Kenny was loving this, and that made Craig supremely uncomfortable, but Craig was a kid who fucking dealt. The impassivity wasn’t _that_ fake. “He’s friends with me, a black kid, a pussy, and a cripple.” The response came so naturally Craig was slightly impressed with himself.

“Oh, tell me more about the black kid.” Kenny grinned at Craig and flopped down on the mattress across from Tweek. “What’s up, dude? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tweek gasped out. So this wasn’t normal for him, and Kenny had actually just been ignoring him. Fuck, Craig was the worst friend imaginable.

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “I’m sitting in my room? I’m here, like, a shocking amount of the time.”

“Why are you _back_?”

If the way he raised his eyebrow looked sarcastic before, the way his eyebrows shot up now betrayed genuine surprise. Craig felt a little smug like Kenny had been tricked into breaking his calm exterior before Craig had. “Back from where?” His voice was a little shaky. Craig had no idea what was going on, but he definitely won the stoic award.

“Craig. You aren’t going along with this are you?” Tweek tugged on Craig’s shirt, and he shook his head in confusion. “Why would you _do_ this to me, Craig? Why are you listening to him? Oh God, you’re all fucking tricking me. I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Craig was speechless. Tweek looked so betrayed by the blank look in his eyes when he was clearly so anguished, but Craig had no idea what the fuck was going on.

“What the fuck did you do to get him to go along with this?” Tweek asked, turning his attention on Kenny.

Kenny shook his head slowly. “No one’s going along with anything, dude. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tweek looked around the room in terror, and Craig realized he was checking out if he was safe to speak in front of _them_. He felt a little hurt like he was angry his trustworthiness had to be questioned while simultaneously angry he trusted his roommate that much, too. But, again, Craig was _not_ jealous. That shit was for dweebs.

“You’re… you’re supposed to be dead.”

Kenny’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

“You’re dead. You shot yourself. I saw it. You’re trying to make me think I’m insane by getting people to play along with this prank. That’s fucked up, Kenny.”

Craig was a little too shocked to register the extent of what they were saying.

“I shot myself?” Kenny’s voice was steadying, but he still looked incredibly fixated on Tweek like he had never seen something like him before in his life.

“You smuggled in a gun. You, fuck, you said it was proving a point. Fuck you. I know you’re the one convincing people to play along. This is fucked up.”

Kenny glanced at Craig nervously. “We’ll talk about this more later, okay?”

“No. We’re talking about it now. You’re tricking everyone into thinking I’m insane or tricking me into thinking I’m insane or something. I’m putting a stop to it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

Tweek gaped at him. “Yesterday, we had your funeral service. People grieved. Today no one remembered. What did you do?”

“I’m honored you think I could pull off a prank that good.”

“This is real, Kenny! Be fucking real!”

Kenny stared at Tweek with the weirdest expression Craig had ever seen. He looked like he couldn’t believe Tweek existed, and Craig wasn’t sure if that was something to be worried about. “Maybe you’re just remembering things a little differently than other people?” Kenny suggested softly.

“This is a big fucking deal to misremember. This isn’t where I left my keys.”

“Sometimes people experience the same thing then remember it a little differently, Tweek. That’s okay. Maybe things were both ways, you know? Like, if someone remembers it, it was real to them.” Kenny’s voice was weirdly comforting. “I’m not playing a prank on you. I don’t think you’re going insane.”

“I’m not going to be Zen about _knowing_ that I watched you die in front of me! Are you fucking with me? Are you even going to admit if it happened or not? I know you know.”

“You think it might have _happened_?” Kenny’s voice cracked in disbelief.

Tweek looked angry. “I trust my brain, okay? I don’t give a shit what you guys are saying. It wouldn’t just make this shit up.”

Kenny’s gaze was full of tangible wonder now, and Craig was starting to get pissed at being excluded from the conversation. He would honestly stand up and walk out if that made the conversation easier for them; he was clearly a useless appendage. Craig had realized a few years ago that people didn’t actually do anything if you just got up and left, no matter the situation. It was a trick he used frequently.

“So just believe you’re remembering it differently. That’s what I do.”

Tweek turned white. Craig didn’t understand what that fucking meant either, but he wasn’t going to be the asshole that made them pause a clearly important conversation just to catch him up. He’d settled for reacting based on Tweek’s reaction, and whatever Kenny had said made Tweek look like he wanted to barf. Craig wrapped an arm around him protectively. That was helpful, right?

It seemed like it might have been helpful because Tweek’s shaking subsided almost instantly, but he still had that horrified look on his face that Craig couldn’t do anything about. “Which do you remember?” Tweek forced out finally.

“I find it’s best to go with popular opinion. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“That didn’t answer my question!”

Kenny grinned a little, trying to hide the fact that he looked like something had broken him open. “I think you should trust your memories. You’ll learn how to trust your memories and respect others eventually. I don’t think you’re going insane.”

“But you remember it, too?”

“I hate to break it to you, but the two of us remembering something doesn’t prove shit, Tweek.”

Tweek’s eyes widened. “Oh, God. You’re just pretending this isn’t happening?”

Kenny shrugged. “I’ve brought it up. Everyone thought I was lying for attention. I even tried to prove it here a couple times, but no one ever remembered. I read about it for awhile, and I don’t know if I’m the person allowed to determine reality or if reality is objective at all. So, yeah. I’m pretending it isn’t happening. Got any better ideas?”

Tweek opened and shut his mouth a few times. “But, you do, like, _experience_ it? It’s… if it’s real to you, where do you go? Doesn’t it fucking hurt?”

“I think you know where I go, bud, and, yes, it hurts like a bitch. Every fucking time. Thank you for asking.”

“And that’s just what you remember?” Tweek asked blankly. He looked like he was calming down, but something in the room had changed. Something that definitely made Craig feel like he was intruding on Kenny and Tweek time.

It was like they had their own secret language. Fuck. They had known each other a fucking week. Granted, their secret language sounded pretty fucking insane, and Craig was wondering if he should tell Nurse Wendy on the way out or not, but Tweek and Kenny were clearly too wrapped up in each other to even remember Craig was there.

Kenny nodded. “But you gotta let the majority win.”

“You’re willing to, just, accuse your brain of that? You think it made you feel and experience all those things like they were real?” Tweek looked aghast. “They felt so real, Kenny.”

He shrugged. “I just try not to worry too much about reality.” He grinned bitterly. “I am in a nuthouse, Tweek. I would _love_ if this were actually a curse unique to only me, and now you, but I know I’m not qualified to say if it is or isn’t. It’s just not worth how disappointing it is every time I bring it up.”

“But I remember too?”

Kenny laughed loudly. “That doesn’t prove shit. I’ve gotten that lecture a million times.”

Tweek shook his head furiously. “There’s no possible way we could make this up the exact same way, Kenny.”

“I hate it to break it to you, kid, but you and me? Minus the deaths? We’d still be here.” He grinned ruefully. “You can’t solve this shit like a mystery, Tweek. I’ve tried. I get where you’re coming from, but in the end you’re just going to reach the same conclusion that going with popular opinion is usually the best way to behave.”

“Your roommate knew too, didn’t he? That’s why you don’t want me to talk about it? That’s why he got taken away.” Tweek breathed out a weak sigh like things were finally sliding together in his brain.

Kenny looked at the floor and nodded weakly.

“But that’s three people who remember! Kenny! You can’t just dump this on me like _but remember to pretend it’s not happening for the rest of your life._ ” Tweek was shaking again, but Craig was a little relieved that it looked like he was shaking from anger. He liked when Tweek got angry. People underestimated the kid, but he was strong as shit when he was mad. Physically and otherwise.

Kenny lifted a face so anguished even Craig inhaled sharply. God, he should have left ages ago. They probably thought he had. “And you know what the only common factor between those three people is? Besides this? It’s me. I’m the one it happens to. It’s, fucking shit, it’s been my two _roommates_. Do you know how much shit I’d get if I drove you crazy too? I would literally never get out of here.”

“I didn’t realize getting out of here was the goal.”

Kenny rolled his eyes rudely. “The people around me were fed up with me. I thought it would be cool to see what the hospital could change. It turns out sometimes the answer is as simple as fake it til you make it. You can’t be reluctant to get back to the real world either.” He snuck a glance at Craig, letting him know he hadn’t forgotten his presence during the whole conversation. He gave him an unreadable look. Maybe he was giving his permission for Craig to have heard everything he just said. It could have been about Tweek. Craig had no fucking idea.

Tweek followed his eyes to Craig and smiled slightly. “That’s motivation to get better. Not motivation to get out.”

Not understanding a word of that entire conversation didn’t matter for shit if it meant Craig got to hear Tweek say that.

Kenny smiled at the two of them, but Craig was perceptive (or jealous) enough to see some annoyance hidden behind the smile. “You know how they let out Cartman’s brother because he was never gonna get better? We talked about that your first night here.” He gracefully pulled Tweek’s full attention back to himself, but Craig didn’t feel as envious as he would have a few minutes ago. He was fucking home base. He and Token and Clyde and Jimmy. They were why Tweek wanted to get better _then_ leave the hospital. He probably wouldn’t even see Kenny again after he left.

That was it, though. Craig was honest enough with himself to admit these feelings. The only issues came when he actually didn’t understand why he acted the way he did. He now had a new reason to pray for Tweek to get better. He wanted him to never see Kenny again.

He definitely wanted them living together for as short a time as possible.

Tweek just nodded mutely, so Kenny grinned and continued. “I think some patients are just like that. I’ve read the brain shit. I looked up all the words I didn’t understand. I still don’t think everyone’s treatable.”

“You sound a little like a western medicine atheist,” Tweek muttered off-handedly. Craig was a little surprised he could make jokes, but Kenny just snorted appreciatively.

“For Cartman’s brother, they were just never gonna do it. There’s no cure for having eaten your parents. The cure is learning to live with yourself. For me, I’d take any cure they’d give me if it would actually work, but they don’t. Nothing does. So then it’s just a question of would I rather be spending my fucked up life in this hospital or out living life?”

Tweek wrinkled his eyebrows together. “Weren’t you a drug addict, too? Is that what this is about?”

He snorted again. “I’m not saying I’m not going back to them immediately. What are the threats, man? I die or fuck up my brain? That’s not what this is about, though. That’s a whole different conversation.”

“Don’t go back to drugs.”

“I’m going to go back to drugs. That’s nonnegotiable. If I have to know what it’s like to die, then I’m not going to stop myself from feeling all the best feelings possible when I’m alive. We can discuss that later.”

Tweek frowned. “But they’re not the best feelings possible!”

Kenny grinned. “No, they are, dude. You just haven’t tried enough. They try to give you shit at rehab about the more important things in life like friendship and family or whatever, but the only issue with drugs is that eventually you aren’t on them anymore and have to deal with getting them again. Your body can’t give you all the best feelings in the world naturally.”

It was weird how sure Kenny was of his decision, but Craig got the feeling that Kenny had put a lot of thought into his opinions a long time ago and had decided to stick with them unwaveringly. That was kind of cool in a way that made Craig feel lame for admiring someone for being cool.

A silence fell over the room finally. Craig realized he had time to pick up all the thoughts he had dropped during that incomprehensible conversation. The only thing he knew for sure was that Kenny and Tweek had something very serious going on between the two of them. They had been talking about death and memories – that part had been unmistakable. It felt like it was them against the world somehow, and that made Craig feel especially guilty for nursing the idea of telling one of the doctors about the conversation. That was a betrayal of Tweek.

He’d been right about the gnomes.

Craig didn’t really understand what Kenny had said about reality, and he had never been bothered to come up with his own opinions on it. All he knew was that even though evidence was constantly piling up against him, he would always give Tweek the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was feeding into his delusions. This could have been the least helpful thing Craig was doing, but he trusted Tweek’s brain, too.

If someone told him that Tweek’s brain was more special than the average human’s (without using the word _special_ to mean _retarded_ ), Craig would believe it. Tweek was probably the only person he would believe it for.

“Sorry we met under such tense conditions,” Kenny said suddenly, a calm smile returning to his face as he focused back on Craig. “I’m very excited to meet Tweek’s friends.”

Craig nodded slowly. “It was good to meet you, too.”

“It helps me visualize his life outside the hospital. I bet this helps you visualize life inside the hospital? It’s not usually this fun, I’m sorry to admit. I usually watch a lot of TV.”

“Stop using the word _fun_ when you mean _fucked up_ , Kenny!” Tweek burst out. “I’m over your fucking sense of humor about the whole thing. You can treat your own life like a joke, but I care about mine.”

Kenny looked at him with tired surprise. “Tweek, we’d already commenced plan _pretend we remember what everyone else remembers_. I thought you’d picked up on that.”

“No, we’re not doing that plan!”

Craig cleared his throat. “Tweek, should I come back another day? You can explain what’s going on then.” Just saying those words made him sure it would kill him to wait another day to figure out what Tweek was talking about.

Tweek sighed. “No, I’ll tell you tonight. Just in case we’re _not talking about it_ next time you get a chance to visit.” He shot Kenny a dirty glance, but Kenny shrugged with his typical guiltlessness.

“Want me to bounce so you can be alone?” He stood up from the bed in an uncharacteristic display of empathy. Well, Craig assumed it was uncharacteristic. If he was lucky, maybe Kenny was just a great dude he had caught on the wrong day.

Craig could obviously call bullshit on that thought immediately, but he nodded gratefully as Kenny moved to the door.

“Great to meet you, Craig. I’m sure I’ll see you around again.”

Kenny flashed him a glowing smile as Craig mumbled something along the lines of “nice to meet you, too” and disappeared into the hallway.

Craig just looked at Tweek quietly for a few minutes after Kenny left. The boy really liked attracting attention to himself. It felt weirdly empty with just the two of them. He wasn’t sure if he should be the first person to talk or not. He really didn’t have any ideas about the protocol for interacting with Tweek besides to keep his arm around him until he thought of a better idea.

“How much of that did you get?” Tweek asked finally. Craig was a little relieved that his voice retained some of its nervous squawk after the talk with Kenny. He knew it was probably wrong, but he would take Tweek’s anxious squeaks over the dead voice from yesterday any day of the week.

Craig chewed on his cuticles, a habit he’d kicked ten years ago. “You… thought he was dead?” He asked hesitantly, and Tweek nodded slowly. “And no one can remember?” He paused again, waiting for Tweek to nod. “But he can remember. He just acts like it isn’t happening.” Craig was more sure of himself by the end. He was actually surprised he had understood that much of the conversation.

Tweek nodded, letting his head hang down heavily against Craig’s chest. “He made these offhand comments about that stuff from the beginning, but everyone assumed he was lying for attention.”

Was it too mean for Craig to say he understood why people may treat Kenny that way?

“And I had been, I mean, you know about the Hell-ish place. I think it was actually Hell. There was one night, I don’t fucking know, I went _there_ and saw him. I still tried to go along with the “Kenny’s a liar” theory.”

“You gotta let the majority win,” Craig echoed Kenny’s words from earlier dryly.

Tweek groaned a little. “Then he saw me while I was _there_. He called me psychotic, and I just thought it would be a good idea to bring up the fact that, hey, I’ve seen you when my fucked up brain brings me to Hell!”

“Why couldn’t you have had this whole conversation on that day?” Craig asked flatly, never one to waste energy drawing things out unnecessarily. Besides one glaringly obvious example that he chose to ignore.

Tweek blushed a little. “He, um, acted really weirdly after I told him. Then I think I upset him because he didn’t talk to me at all for a couple days until two days ago, he just stands up with a fucking gun and tells me he’s gonna prove his point. Then we had the funeral yesterday, and you guys were allowed to visit. Granted, this may or may not have happened.”

Craig was honestly amazed Tweek was able to get his information out so clearly. That seemed unlike him. Normally coaxing information out of Tweek was a several-hour, very circular conversation. He also didn’t like how long the blush stayed. “How did he act weirdly?”

Tweek shook his head. “Irrelevant to the plot of the story.”

Craig snorted. “Christ, you’re still such an asshole.”

“I don’t see myself becoming less of an asshole.”

Craig tightened his hug around Tweek’s shoulders. “Dude, are your meds always going to make you how you were yesterday?”

Tweek frowned and shrugged. His shoulder bumped into Craig’s collarbone during the movement, but Craig didn’t care enough to bring up the dull ache it left behind. “I’m less like that today, aren’t I?”

He wasn’t convinced. “That was during, let’s be real, a fucking traumatic experience, though.”

“I’m not traumatized.”

“You don’t need to be traumatized for it to be trauma. At least not in the sense I’m using the word.” Craig snorted. “Do you take words like that super seriously here or something?” That sounded eerily similar to how fucking awful it had been when the new PC frat moved in at the South Park Community College. Craig didn’t actually know the definitions of any words! He just used them the way that felt natural – that was how humans learn language. It wasn’t his fault if he ended up making a microaggression.

Tweek rolled his eyes. “If you’re asking if I’m allowed to use the words fear and anxiety interchangeably, the answer is no. They don’t give a shit about words like retard or faggot, though. It’s fucked up.” He frowned. “I guess it’s for the sake of medical precision. There’s a lot of stuff to shit on this hospital for that actually _is_ due to negligence.”

Craig caught himself moving his hand up to bite at his cuticles again and forced himself to stop. That was a super lame habit to develop this late in life. If he had an oral fixation, he would go back to smoking like an adult. “Tweek,” he said softly, and Tweek angled his face up in response. “Did you agree with his idea about getting discharged at all? I mean, if the hospital sucks, and it’s just getting worse anyway.”

Tweek pulled back a little and wrinkled his nose. “Kenny does this thing where he just kind of shouts out these random facts about psychiatry. I can’t prove it isn’t bullshit, but he said the US prescribes antipsychotics at a much higher rate than any other country, but it has one of the lowest success rates in recovery. He hates that they put me on these, though, but the places that show actual recovery rates are, like, tribes in Africa and places like that apparently. The really old cultures where they accept the disease and emphasize social support and integration and stuff.”

“So let’s go to Africa.”

“It doesn’t work if I’m not already in the tribe!”

“I volunteer to support you socially.”

Tweek grinned and allowed himself to be pulled back into his chest. “I think he’s full of shit, though. He’s right that it’s not like we’re totally normal _except_ for these weird death co-fantasies. I would still have to stay here for that, and I’m not going to figure out anything about what’s happening unless he’s around.”

“So you’re kind of staying here for him,” Craig said flatly. “He told you not to treat it like a mystery, Tweek.”

“I’m not. I’m treating it like my disease.”

“Or curse,” Craig muttered, and Tweek flashed him a grateful smile. “Don’t you get the feeling you should stay away from him at all? He’s a pretty weird kid, dude, and I don’t feel like anything’s gotten better since you’ve met him. I’d even talk to someone if you wanted to switch suites or roommates.”

“I have that feeling all the time.”

Craig raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected the conversation to be that easy. “Fuck, thank God, dude. I think that would help a lot.”

Tweek shook his head. “I’m not going to act on that feeling. Even if Kenny is making things worse, he’s making them make sense.”

“That conversation made sense to you?”

Craig felt his heart tighten a little at the glare Tweek shot at him. “Kenny is the only other person this makes sense to, Craig. I know you’re fucking trying, but you get why I’m not just going to switch suites, don’t you? Even if he is fucked up, he’s fucked up in the same way. No one else is.” Tweek paused, a weird look spreading across his face as the words left his lips.

“I get it,” Craig said softly. He got that only Kenny could get it. It didn’t sound like the type of experience he wanted to have, but he didn’t want Tweek to gravitate towards creeps just because of mutual experience.

“Craig, I need you to do something.” The weird look was transitioning into one of deep thought, and Tweek gripped at Craig’s arm urgently.

“Yeah, dude?”

Tweek tightened his fist, knuckles whitening. “Can you find out everything possible about a boy in South Park named Damien who has been or is in this hospital sometime in the past year?”

Craig stared at him expressionlessly. “What am I supposed to be finding out?”

“I won’t know unless we find it! Even, like, a contact address.”

“How do you find information on people?”

Tweek paused and frowned. Craig wished he could make this some TV drama for Tweek where he spent hours pouring over books in the library for mentions of Damien, but did books in the library actually talk about everyday people? Who the fuck even goes to the library? “I can Facebook him?” Craig offered weakly. “It’s a small town. We might have mutual friends or something. Do you know his last name?”

Tweek shook his head sadly. “So googling the name is out.”

“Put your trust in Facebook, Tweek. Worst case scenario, Clyde’s kind of a magician at stalking girls online. I’ll make up some reason for caring.”

“Don’t talk about today with the other guys,” Tweek said sharply.

Craig glared at him. “I hadn’t even thought about doing that, dude.” He had thought about telling the nurses. That was probably worse, but he was still mad Tweek didn’t know instinctively to trust him. “Do you have any idea how impossible it would be for me to even explain what’s going on? Especially to them?”

“They like to ask questions,” Tweek agreed thoughtfully. Jimmy was a reporter, Token a skeptic, and Clyde overeager and easily confused. It combined for a lot of questioning if Craig ever wanted to tell them what was going on, and Craig barely even knew what he would say.

Craig snorted. “They wouldn’t expect me to tell them anything anyway, dude. Have I ever fucking just talked about my day?” Clyde had tried to institute a “rose and thorn” policy in their group chat once where everyone shared the highlight and low point of their days every fucking day, but Craig had put a pin in that immediately.

He had texted Clyde privately after the fight that his rose for the day was no one doing rose and thorn anymore, and Clyde hadn’t talked to him for an entire week. It was hard to navigate the world of emotions when Craig’s were so clear and specific. They had both accepted this as a necessary evil in their friendship. Clyde wasn’t going to teach Craig how not to be an asshole, and Craig wasn’t going to teach Clyde how not to be a pussy.

Tweek nodded understandingly. Their friends were nosy and aggressive, but Craig was like an impenetrable fortress of stoicism when he had to be, and Tweek was beyond comprehension a lot of the time. It had never been hard for the two of them to maintain their privacy. “You could also try Kenny’s name on Facebook – his last name is McCormick. He might be friends with him on Facebook if you don’t share any mutual ones.”

Craig was not familiar with the world of Facebook stalking. No one was really worth stalking who he couldn’t just talk to in person. “That’s a good idea.”

Tweek grinned. “Clyde will have more.”

“Do you want me to look into anything else?” He couldn’t fight the feeling that this must just be a really rare disease. There was no way he knew (of) the only three people in the world this had ever happened to. Tweek should be looking for case studies, not Damien.

He just shook his head, though. “Come back soon? You don’t have to wait until you find something out about Damien to visit.”

Craig smirked at him. “I’m giving you social support, man. You’re part of our African tribe. Made all the more real by the inclusion of an actual black guy!”


	10. Gayest in the Group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is back  
> i'm in it now

The other students at school said lots of things about Clyde Donovan. They called him a dim-witted sweetheart. They called him perverted. They called him affectionate to a creepy degree.

And they were all correct.

Craig leaned against his wall and watched, mildly amused and mildly disturbed, as Clyde instinctively opened multiple Safari windows on his computer and set to work on Facebook. If he hadn’t known what Clyde was up to, he would have been impressed by his apparent work ethic. Instead, Craig just quietly thanked God that his best friend had stalked every girl in the Park County area online and decided it was best not to mock Clyde’s special skill.

Clyde paused to glance back at Craig. “Do you know if it’s Damien with an _a_ or an _e_?”

Craig shrugged uselessly. “People don’t tend to emphasize their name’s spelling when they’re talking to strangers at a party.”

“I’ll ignore you pretending you have any knowledge of what happens at parties because I’m too excited about this Damien dude. We’ll find him, buddy.” Clyde flashed Craig a radiant smile and turned back to the computer, opening separate Facebook windows to search _Damien_ and _Damian_. “Are you,” he paused typing to look back at Craig seriously, “are you going to tell Token and Jimmy?”

Ah, shit. Craig knew that question was coming. He’d known the only way to get Clyde fully on board with the search was to give him decent incentive, and Craig knew what incentivized Clyde.

_“I hooked up with a boy named Damien at a party a few weeks ago, and now I need help tracking him down online.”_

At least he didn’t have to worry about coming out anymore.

Craig nodded. “I’ll tell them.”

Clyde beamed at him again. “I’m really happy for you, dude. Thank you for telling me.”

Craig didn’t have to respond. Clyde immediately directed his attention back to the screen. Within seconds, he had a list of all _Damian_ and _Damien_ ’s in South Park on Facebook, and he had inexplicably opened windows with at least four different girls’ pages, none of whom Craig recognized.

He felt bad that he had phoned in his job to Clyde, but Tweek _had_ to know Clyde was better at this than Craig was. Craig could not find an account for Kenny, and the hospital staunchly refused to give out any patient information when he called. Those had been his only two ideas.

“What are you doing?” Craig asked with mild interest, uncrossing his arm and striding to stand behind Clyde so he could see the screen better.

Clyde appeared to work better when he didn’t have to explain his methods, but he paused for a second to collect his thoughts. “If he’s from South Park, there are only like three high schools he could be from unless he’s homeschooled. These girls upload a _shit_ ton of photos. If he goes to their school, he’ll be in one of their albums.” Clyde tapped at the keys absent-mindedly. “If he doesn’t turn up in any of their albums, we could always check Spelling Bee records and see if he gets homeschooled.”

“How does that tell you if he’s homeschooled or not?”

For the first time in Craig’s life, Clyde cast him a look like _he_ was the dumb one. “Because if there’s a homeschooled Damien in South Park, he must have won at least one Spelling Bee.”

Craig didn’t want to bother explaining that this search was too important for drastic generalizations like that. He let Clyde go to work clicking through photo albums, eyes rapidly skimming the tags and comments on each post before moving on. Stalking was something of an art form the way Clyde did it. That, or a very fine science.

He continued in silence long enough for Craig to get bored and go wandering downstairs for a bag of chips and some water. When he returned to the room, Clyde’s head snapped to him, and he beckoned Craig over eagerly. “Check this out.”

Craig’s eyebrows shot up as he examined the screen over Clyde’s shoulder. The photo was from 2013 ( _Jesus Christ, Clyde had gone back so far in these girls’ albums)_ , and there was no Damien listed in the tags. Everyone in the photo had been tagged save one pale, dark-haired boy with eyes that burnt with rage. He looked angry to be in the photo and reached out like he had been trying to push the camera away. There were absolutely no clues as to the boy’s identity except a comment reading “lol @ damien raising hell” and someone’s response “as usual”.

Clyde was a genius. Craig had given him so little credit all these years. This level of stalking, appropriate or not, required incredible genius. Under no circumstances could Craig or even Token have done better.

“Is this the guy?” Clyde asked excitedly. “He’s pretty hot! Seems like your type.”

Craig sneered at him. “What, because he looks mean?”

“I would have said “surly”. C’mon, though, you have to recognize him?”

Honestly, Craig could never be sure this was Damien. That reference to Hell seemed entirely too coincidental, and he had nothing else to go on, so Craig nodded passively. “So you know what school he goes to?”

“Well, Lisa goes to Park County High. This is her album.”

“Do we know anyone at Park County High?”

Clyde gave Craig a disbelieving look. “Are you kidding?”

“No?”

Clyde furrowed his eyebrows together and shook his head. “Your little sister just started as a freshman there. Jesus Christ, dude, get on it.”

“What? Ruby’s in high school?”

Clyde’s stare was downright incredulous now. “What year did you think she was in?”

“Like fifth grade, man! She’s a fetus!”

*

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little sister!” Craig smiled ingratiatingly as he leaned up against his car, waiting for the students to file out into the parking lot. Ruby was with a large group of kids her age, and Craig recognized proudly that she was in the center of the group.

She gave him a curious look as she approached. “What are you doing here, Craig?”

“I’m picking you up from school. Do any of your friends need rides home?”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “You _never_ pick me up from school.”

“I just want to hang out with my number one girl,” Craig explained lamely, punctuating it with a wink.

“We never hang out.”

Wow, was _Craig_ this difficult to talk to? Maybe he should thank his friends for putting up with him. Of course, he wasn’t actually _planning_ on doing anything like that, but he could acknowledge that maybe he should. “We hang out at most mealtimes.”

“What _grade_ am I in, Craig?”

“Ninth!” He cried triumphantly. Ruby looked amused, and Craig made another mental note to maybe thank Clyde later. “Get in the fucking car.”

She rolled her eyes but beckoned over two other girls. “Aren’t you going to offer us candy or anything first?”

“Can you be a child molester if you’re only seventeen?”

Ruby nodded emphatically, but Craig just grinned and opened the passenger door for her. He stepped back respectfully as her friends piled into the backseat with nothing more than a curt “Amy” and “Jessica” to Craig.

He deduced that their names were probably Amy and Jessica. “Craig. Ruby’s brother.”

The blonder one, Jessica, giggled as she fastened her seatbelt. “We know.”

Did that mean he was hot? That totally meant he was hot. Ruby could’ve gone to his high school and just been Craig Tucker’s little sister (a role she would probably fit into easily if she was always this difficult to deal with), but instead she got to go to a different high school and be that girl with a hot older brother.

His ego was untouchable.

“So how are you liking PCH, Rue?” Craig winced inwardly. He had never tried to give Ruby a nickname before, and it came out sounding incredibly suspicious. She gave him a look to let him know the name did not slip by.

“I love it, Cray. So why’d you pick me up from school?”

“Aren’t I allowed to want to spend time with my little sister?”

“You’re allowed to. You just don’t.”

Amy whispered something to Jessica, and they both laughed uproariously. “You guys are like the same person.”

“We are not!” Craig snapped back just as Ruby responded, “Fuck yourself”.

They glared at each other for a second in disdainful respect.

“So why’d you pick me up, Craig?”

Damn, she was not dropping this. She was annoying in a whole different way than he was. Deciding honesty was the best policy when dealing with stubborn assholes, he blurted out, “do you know a boy at your school named Damien?”

“Is he a freshman?” Ruby didn’t show any signs of recognizing the name.

“No, he would be my year.”

“Craig, I don’t even know all the _freshmen_.” She twisted around in the car. “Have either of you ever met Damien?”

Jessica snorted, and Ruby and Amy looked at her inquisitively. “Oh, right. Yeah, my sister Lisa was in his year. He doesn’t go here anymore. I think he went crazy and got locked up somewhere.”

Craig’s grip on the wheel tightened, and the girls looked intrigued. “How did he go crazy?”

“He tried to make people call him the _Prince of Darknesss_.” Jessica giggled, and Ruby snorted appreciatively. “No one would so he started, like, attacking people in the grade. Lisa said he turned a boy into a duck-billed platypus.”

Ruby wrinkled her nose. “That’s the dumbest rumor I’ve ever heard.”

“I know, and doesn’t that make you wonder _why_ someone would start such a dumb rumor?” Jessica waggled her eyebrows at Ruby, and Ruby openly laughed. “Why are you asking about him, Craig?”

Craig stiffened. He couldn’t use the gay excuse. Partly because it was his sister’s friend, but mainly because he didn’t want people to think he had hooked up with the self-proclaimed Prince of Darkness. Again, something about Ruby’s insistent lack of interest in his life (a paradox if there ever were one) made Craig feel like he wanted to be honest with her. It wasn’t like she would tell Clyde, Token or Jimmy.

“He went to the same mental hospital that my friend is at now. He, uh, made an impression.”

Jessica’s eyes widened. “I bet! Do you want me to ask Lisa about him?”

Craig was a little impressed by her helpfulness. He probably wasn’t giving Ruby enough credit if he thought she would grow up just like him. Then again, he had grown up just like him, and _his_ friends were just as eager to help people as Ruby’s. Craig clashed too hard with other people as surly as he was, and it was possibly Ruby did too. “That’d be really cool, actually.”

*

Mr. Mackey had told Tweek to come up with a mantra, not tell it to anyone else, and repeat it to himself at night to calm down. Tweek didn’t want to tell him he already had a mantra to repeat at night, and it was _“they’re coming for me, they’re coming for me, they’re coming for me”_. Truth be told, he was excited at the prospect of using something other than heavy sedation to fall asleep at night.

So, that night in bed, he stared at the ceiling with heart racing and quietly murmured _“Kenny is not a danger to my life, Kenny is not a danger to my life”_ until aforementioned Kenny rolled over in his sleep, and Tweek immediately pretended to be asleep, fearing for his life.

It had been a few days since Craig’s visit, and Kenny was still acting weirdly mysterious around Tweek all the time. Besides a few obligatory jokes about Craig, he had been largely silent. That was what was so weird. Kenny never got _silent_. Kenny got hostile, mocking, insensitive, and manipulative, but never silent.

Tweek counted the intervals between Kenny’s breaths until he was sure the other boy was deep asleep, then he padded out into the hallway and towards the common room.

True to form, Kyle was already there, sitting cross-legged on the yoga mat with the same conflicted expression he had every night Tweek had found him out here. “Morning,” Tweek muttered sleepily. There was something much more calming about Kyle’s presence (although it might have just been the lack of Kenny’s).

Kyle snorted. “Morning came earlier than usual today.”

Tweek nodded, vaguely wondering if it was worth waking up the nurse for another clonazepam. “As soon as I could leave my room.”

Kyle looked at him strangely. “Kenny’s not stopping you from leaving?”

“It’s just more comfortable once he’s asleep.”

Kyle sighed. “I wish you could move into my room. It sucks being alone since… y’know, and they never should have put you with him.”

Tweek nodded again. He would never actually file a request to move out of Kenny’s room, as both Craig and Kyle had urged him to do, but he realized it was best to pretend he wanted to leave indefinitely. “You know what I just remembered today?”

“Hm?”

“Mr. Mackey told me that they roomed me with Kenny because it would be _mutually beneficial_. Those were his exact words.”

“Mackey’s wrong about most things.”

“It’s not like he particularly likes Kenny.”

Kyle grinned sardonically. “No one on the staff likes Kenny. Except Al and Chef, but that’s because he pretends to be more likable than he is around them.”

“Chef?”

“What about him?”

Tweek winced and shook his head to clear his thoughts. “No, I mean, who is Chef?”

Kyle laughed. “The cafeteria chef, dude. That’s like asking who’s the main character in _Batman_.”

“His name is actually Chef?”

“Highly doubt it, but for our purposes, yes.”

“I’ve never seen him and Kenny before.” Tweek was mystified. They didn’t usually leave for meals at the exact same time, but he had seen Kenny with Al enough that he assumed he would know if there were another person in the hospital he was close with.

Kyle shrugged. “Chef’s really cool. It always sucks when awesome people can’t see through Kenny, but the kid knows how to suck up.”

Tweek wanted to suggest that, if Al and Chef were both so great and saw a good side in Kenny, that meant the good was actually hidden in there somewhere. More likely, Kyle was right, and Kenny was good at getting people to like him once he decided he wanted them to like him.

“What do you think his criteria is?” Kyle asked after a lengthy pause. Reading Tweek’s confused expression, he continued, “I mean, what makes a person worthy of Kenny pretending to be a good person? I know he used to like Stan a lot before I got here. I just wonder how he picks them. Or, I guess, more accurately, why he doesn’t choose any other ones.”

Tweek was quiet. He knew Kenny did stuff like that – when he liked people, he made it _very_ clear they were his favorite people.

He didn’t do that to Tweek, and he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t _jealous_ of Al, but if Kenny only treated people with derision or open admiration, and he didn’t admire Tweek, that left only one possibility.

A small voice told Tweek maybe that was just because Tweek _was_ Kenny’s first real friend, but even Stan had warned him not to hope for any good surprises. Kenny probably would have been as apathetic to Tweek as to anyone if it weren’t for proximity (and then the addition of The Subject That Was Not to Be Brought Up).

“Why’d he and Stan stop being friends?”

Kyle jerked his thumbs at himself and chuckled a little. “He didn’t like a competitor for Stan’s attention. When he lashed out, Stan stopped talking to him.”

“Lashed out?” Tweek echoed. _Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny is not a danger to my life._

Kyle laughed mirthlessly. “It was kind of funny. Stan always thought Cartman was going to do something because he targeted me as soon as he heard my last name. I think he actually became nicer to Cartman after he realized he wasn’t the threat.”

“Kenny… was… the threat?”

Kyle still had that dark grin when he looked up at Tweek. “He, ah, I guess it would take some backstory to explain exactly _why_ he did what he did.” He frowned to himself. Tweek had gotten closer to the topic every night he spent in the common room with Kyle, but he had still never heard him talk about why he was in the hospital. The most immediate problem, his weight (or lack thereof), was clear to Tweek, and he didn’t need to pry further. “He, ah,” Kyle laughed again, turning red, “smeared, um, shit on my door?”

Tweek went from sleepy to alert in the blink of an eye. _“What?”_

“He used, um, words. Not just a smear.”

Tweek didn’t think his eyes could get any wider. They would dry up or pop out of his sockets or something. Could he ask what the words were? Was that too far into the territory Kyle didn’t talk about?

Without waiting for Tweek to ask, Kyle muttered, _“eat shit and diet”_.

They were both quiet for a very long time.

“Sorry,” Tweek offered lamely. He felt a huge amount of guilt for actually _liking_ Kenny crash down on his shoulders.

Kyle smiled at him a little. “I did, um. How do I put this? I did do that.”

Tweek looked alarmingly perplexed.

“Do you remember when Apple tried to make the HUMAN CENTiPAD?”

Tweek sucked in a breath sharply, and Kyle looked relieved. “Glad you already know what it is.”

Again, they were both quiet for a very long time.

“Shit, dude,” Tweek muttered finally. He had been trying to think of what Craig would say to him if he were in Kyle’s place. Tweek couldn’t try to kill Tim Cook, and he wasn’t sure if Craig would be able to do much more than that.

Kyle nodded like the conversation had exhausted him.

“Kenny’s a dick.”

“I’m aware. I’m glad you are. I wanted to warn you. I just didn’t want to…” Kyle trailed off, and Tweek nodded understandingly. “I didn’t think you were at any immediate risk anyway.”

Tweek shook his head. “No damage done.”

_Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny is not a danger to my life._

“Do you want to ask about switching rooms?”

_Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny is not a danger to my life._

Tweek nodded.

He didn’t really feel like he had the option to say “no”.

*

Craig had planned how he was going to come out to his friends. It was going to be hilarious. He was going to make them think he was trying to prank them then admit it was the truth, accuse them of homophobia, and hold it over their heads for months.

Token had gotten more than enough attention as the minority.

Unfortunately, he had needed Clyde’s help immediately and didn’t have time to go through the full plan before coming out to him. It was kind of funny that it had actually been a lie. The whole Damien story, at least, was completely made up, but there it was. The truth was out there, and he’d said he’d tell Token and Jimmy.

The four of them were sitting at their cafeteria table, saying _something_ about Jimmy’s stand-up. Craig couldn’t be bothered to follow the conversation. Before Token could respond to whatever Jimmy had said, Craig interrupted, “I’m gay. Clyde already knew.”

The table fell silent for a second, then Clyde was smirking triumphantly, Jimmy was laughing happily and cracking some joke Craig couldn’t hear, and Token made a whooping noise and pulled him into a hug from across the table.

“I didn’t realize this required celebration,” Craig commented, noting all of his friends’ beaming faces.

Token clapped him on the shoulder again. “I’m happy for you, dude. This explains a lot.”

Craig, happy to have been practicing ever since he saw Ruby do it, raised one eyebrow scathingly. “What does it explain?”

“Probably why you’re super hot and never fuck bitches,” Clyde marked observantly. “Thank you, by the way. Glad you’re out of the competition.”

Without his permission, Craig’s face split into a wide grin. His friends were good kids.

“Well, that, but, I mean, did you want to tell us something else also?” Token prompted.

Craig, and the rest of the table, looked confused.

“Did you tell Tweek yet?” He tried again.

_Oh_.

Token had figured that one out, had he?

Oh.

Craig cleared his throat uncomfortably. “No, I’ll do it next time I see him,” he responded sharply, giving Token a pointed look to shut his fucking face.

Token nodded. “I’m sure he’ll be excited, too.”

Clyde laughed loudly, breaking the tension. “We’re all very excited Craig is out of the playing field. Plus, I’m sure he’ll be stoked to only be the _second_ gayest boy we’re friends with.”

“Th-that’s you,” Jimmy corrected him, and Craig nodded.

“What?” Clyde clutched at his chest defensively. “Tweek’s _definitely_ gayer than I am.”

“Craig’s not gayer than you are,” Token corrected.

Clyde flipped him off. “You’re all just forgetting because he’s not here. I promise I’m less gay.”

Craig leaned in to him and made dramatic sniffing motions around his neck. “Nah, dude. When you come out, your gaydar becomes a sixth sense. Gayest in the group by a landslide.”

*

Craig heard three quick knocks on his door before Ruby burst in uninvited. He pushed his laptop off him and glared at her. “What the fuck, dude? I could so easily have been masturbating!”

“I didn’t hear any burly grunting so I assumed - .”

“Fuck off,” Craig interrupted her irritably. He wasn’t quite sure if she was making a joke about him or his porn, but it was worrying nonetheless.

Ruby pouted innocently. “Okay. I just had _my_ friend do a favor for you, but I guess you didn’t want to hear about Damien, and you just wasted all our time.” She feigned stepping out into the hallway, and Craig grumbled out an apology.

He couldn’t help narrowing his eyes whenever he looked at her. It was pure habit at this point. “Well?”

“Oh!” She gasped like she had forgotten why she came. God, he had spent three days getting to know his sister, and she really was just an annoying fuck. It brought up serious questions about whether _he_ was just an annoying fuck. “Of course! You just want to hear what I found out so I’ll leave.”

She sat down on Craig’s bed. She splayed her legs out widely when she sat, and he was really glad she wore jeans most days. Girls weren’t supposed to sit like that. His _sister_ should definitely not be sitting like that. “Well, Jessica talked to her sister.” She paused for this to sink in, and Craig had a sickening feeling she would do that every sentence. “She said Damien took a leave of absence their sophomore year and that he’d been a creepy freak beforehand.”

“Creepy how?”

“Well, she confirmed the Prince of Darkness thing, but she said she wasn’t sure if the kid actually turned into a platypus or if Damien just _threatened_ to turn a kid into a platypus.”

“He had… powers?” Craig asked uncertainly, but Ruby just laughed flippantly.

“He obviously didn’t actually have powers, Craig. He just went insane and thought he did so he started demanding respect and threatening the other students, and then Lisa assumed they just locked him up in some nuthouse.” She looked him over scathingly. His sister was really a very smart girl. It worried him. “If he _had_ powers, Craig, why would he not have used them so they couldn’t commit him?”

That made sense. He couldn’t argue with that, but he could tell Ruby still read some doubt on his face. “Do you know more about him, Craig?”

He shook his head slightly too vehemently. “No. Nah. I was just… trying to get a sense of him.”

“Well,” she smiled at him brightly. “He went insane and thinks he’s the son of Satan now. I feel like that gives me a pretty good sense of him.”                                                                                                 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holla @ tweek and kenny barely showing up in a fic about them


	11. Conscious Uncoupling

“You know people tend to let the person who owns the car drive? That’s pretty typical car ownership etiquette.”

“Are you insinuating that, because I’m gay, I can’t drive as well as you?”

“You need to get over this whole “novelty value of being a minority” thing, man. I can promise you – it’s not fun after eighteen years of it.”

Craig grinned as he kept his eyes steadily on the road. Honestly, he was only doing it because of how much it annoyed Token. He hadn’t been given the chance to come out on his own terms. The least he could do was make his friends uncomfortable. Life owed him that. “Yeah, but it’s fun after two days of it. Let me have this.”

Token rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Have fun always having a disadvantage in society?”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell, brutha.”

Token faked a gasp in the way he only did when he was about to make Craig feel horrible about himself. “Oh, that’s right! I forgot! You don’t have the fact that you’re a minority _screaming from every inch of your skin_.”

“Point taken.”

“Can I drive now?”

Craig smiled distantly. “You still can’t guilt trip me anymore. I’ve earned this.”

Token slumped back in the seat. “If you didn’t want me to visit Tweek, and you didn’t even want me to _drive_ the car, why the fuck am I here?”

Craig blinked because, he assured himself, Token could only see his profile. It would look like a wink. He just didn’t have to put in any effort. “I thought you’d enjoy seeing everyone’s favorite nurse.”

“Nursing intern,” Token corrected automatically before he mumbled, “She’s a nursing _intern_.”

“Hm,” Craig responded noncommittally. “So I guess now you understand how Clyde feels when he gets obsessed with _every_ girl?”

“I’m not obsessed with her!”

Craig turned to give him Craig Tucker’s best attempt at a real smile. “Nah, but it’s sweet that you remember every interaction you’ve had with her. I’m under specific directions from Clyde to bring you to this hospital. In his words, so “Nurse Wendy can cure his sexual frustration.””

“You guys are impossible.”

Craig’s smile melted back into a smirk. “You know I don’t give a shit about your personal life. I’m humoring Clyde on this one.” He didn’t want to add that Token meddled with _his_ personal life even though the risks were much, much greater than talking to a pretty nurse.

The weird expression on Token’s face suggested he’d had the same thought, but he only asked, “Why are you doing what Clyde says?”

“It’s Clyde Appreciation Week. Didn’t you know? I pretend to be the friend he actually wants for a week so I can go back to being a dick the rest of the year.” Craig always impressed himself with his ability to lie even though he never wasted his time coming up with plausible excuses _before_ getting caught. It was just another natural gift of his.

Token raised an eyebrow. “You literally taped a sign that said “kick me” to Clyde’s back today.”

Maybe it wasn’t a natural gift of his. “It said “kick me and/or stuff something up my ass”, Token, and it was a social statement about the degradation of homosexuals in our society.”

Token scoffed. “You are the _entirely_ full of shit.”

“I’m very aware.”

“You know, while we’re on the subject of homosexuality and meddling,” Token began before Craig instinctively pressed the button on the radio. Some Bruce Springsteen song he didn’t know (anything other than “Born to Run” or that one with America or USA or something in the title) filled the car immediately.

Craig nodded along, pretending to enjoy the song. “Don’t you just love The Boss?”

Token grinned. “I do love Bruce Springsteen. I love this Dylan song that’s playing even more, though.”

 _Fuck_. “Ah, shit, how could I mix them up! Did you see he won a Nobel prize?” At this point, he knew Token wasn’t the least bit fooled by Craig’s lame attempts at distractions.

“I did!” From the way Token’s eyes lit up, Craig knew he’d taken the bait. “If you promise to actively listen and respond while I talk about Bob Dylan, I won’t bring up your very obvious crush on a dear, dear mutual friend.”

“Fucker. Go ahead.” Craig glared at the road, and Token beamed at him. This was why it was _Clyde_ Appreciation Week. In the future, Craig would only befriend dim-witted sweethearts.

His stomach dropped. Were boys in college going to want to hang out with a gay kid? Craig hated hanging out with girls. He’d spent more time (family meals not included) with Ruby in the past week than he had in his entire life. He _had_ to love her, and he could barely stand her. He’d gotten all his male friends before he came out, and he _had_ gotten a crush on one of them. He was a straight boy’s worst nightmare.

He was too preoccupied with this startling new worry that he barely caught what Token was saying in time to respond.

“I actually wrote my personal statement about him, you know?”

“I didn’t. What was it about?” _Perfect timing._

“Do you remember when everyone kept trying to get me to be a musician?”

How could Craig have forgotten? Not only was Token naturally gifted at bass, he also had the voice of an angel and perfect rhythm. He’d already realized he was gay the last time he saw Token play bass, and he was pretty sure _he_ was the one who had pushed so hard for Token to be a musician. It had been hot as shit. He thought he’d been doing Token a favor to push for him to pursue music. If it had been anyone else, he would have told them bluntly that being a famous musician was a stupid and unachievable dream. “Vaguely, yeah.”

Token cast him a disparaging look. “I just talked about how much I respected Bob Dylan, but that it wasn’t the life for me. I liked it a lot, though.”

“Which prompt did you choose?” Craig had just chosen the prompt that gave him the most opportunity to talk about Stripe; he couldn’t even remember the name of it now.

“It was something about how I define myself. I remember my opening line, though. I was really proud of it. _Bob Dylan is to cheeseburgers-_ Wait, no, fuck, _Bob Dylan is to music what the McDonald’s hamburger is to the normal burger: he is classic, for the masses yet completely exceptional, and, if left untouched in a man’s pocket for fourteen years, will be exactly as enjoyable when discovered_.” Token smiled with a look of tentative pride, and Craig rewarded it with a grin.

“That was great, dude. Where are you looking?”

“Right now, my top is UNC Chapel Hill, but obviously I’m applying to CSU and some schools in California, too.”

Token didn’t usually dominate conversations. It was a pretty interesting experience to just listen to him for thirty minutes. He definitely knew his friend better, but it was mostly the type of stuff he should have already known after being Token’s friend for fifteen years.

Token nearly gasped for breath as Craig pulled into a parking space, and he stopped in the middle of a story his dad had told him about Bob Dylan. He sighed deeply. “Alright, dude, hand in.”

“What?” Token extended his hand so it hovered in the air in front of Craig, and Craig mimicked the action in confusion.

“On three, “don’t fuck up”, okay?”

It started to dawn on Craig what Token was doing in time to join in the cheer, “ _one, two, three – don’t fuck up!”_

*

Kenny knew the whole staff was congratulating themselves on a week in the hospital with nothing noticeably wrong. The last group session had been after Kenny had made the conscious decision to cut Tweek out, and he’d totally underestimated how boring it was without his constant commentary to keep things engaging. The other patients made their jobs too easy for them.

He didn’t realize that even he’d been lulled into the false sense of security until he saw a sheet on Tweek’s bed – a request to switch rooms. A request that had been approved.

Kenny snatched up the sheet, checking the new room assignment to confirm his suspicion. He crumpled the sheet up before he tossed it back on Tweek’s bed and stormed down the hallway to Kyle’s room.

He banged on the door until it was opened by a very sleepy Kyle. His expression shifted from annoyed and slightly puzzled to one of complete understanding as soon as he saw Kenny. “What’s wrong, dude?”

“You know what’s wrong!”

“I really don’t, Kenny. Something is _always_ wrong with you, and I’m sorry to say I stopped giving a shit about you months ago.” Kyle managed to meet Kenny’s gaze unflinchingly, and Kenny summoned every bit of fear he could inspire in people to channel into his glare.

“You poached my roommate.”

Kyle smiled a little. Of course he had known why Kenny was mad. “Tweek made that choice for himself. I’d suggest talking to him about it, but I would never suggest you talk to anyone.”

“Wasn’t taking Stan enough? You had to-?”

“Stan and I fell _in love_ with each other. It had nothing to do with taking him from you. You were the one who burnt any bridges you might have retained. It appears you burnt that bridge with Tweek, too.”

Kenny felt his breath picking up. “Is that what happened? I seem to remember Stan skipping most meals with me because _you_ told him his support would help. Is that the poking a hole in the condom equivalent of mental disorders?”

“His support does help!”

“And obviously if you tell Stan Marsh you need his help, that becomes his priority. _You_ didn’t become the priority. You manipulated him.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and moved like he was about to step back into his room. “You can tell yourself what you want, Kenny, but you lost your friend, and we both know it was your own fault. How else could the exact same thing have happened again?”

Kenny paled. “What the fuck are you doing with him?”

“Not like that. Jesus, dude.” Kyle gave him a disbelieving look. “I just meant you lost another friend because they started to see through you. I’d warn you not to act out or you’d lose Tweek forever, but he already knows what happened last time.”

Kenny took a step towards Kyle in case he tried to back into the room further. “You know what, Kyle? I’m _glad_ he knows. I think it was fucking inspired, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again but unfortunately your door is also his door now.”

He hadn’t realized he said anything weird, but Kyle was looking at him with genuine shock.

“What?” Kenny snapped once it seemed like Kyle wasn’t anywhere close to coming out of his racing thoughts.

Kyle shrugged. “I just hadn’t guessed you wouldn’t touch my room if he lived in it.”

“It wasn’t Tweek’s fault you corrupted him and turned him against me.”

“No, you’re right. That was your fault.” Kyle was still looking at him with slight puzzlement. “You’re… _not_ mad at Tweek?”

“I thought it was pretty clear I was mad at you.”

“Stan living in the room didn’t stop you.”

“That’s because Stan fucking sucks, Kyle. I was over his constant moping by that point anyway. Tweek was the only one in this fucking hospital who was worth a damn.”

Kyle was quiet for awhile as he thought this over. “I hadn’t realized you wouldn’t try to hurt Tweek if he lived with you.”

“So talk to him!”

Kyle shook his head quickly. “Oh, no, I was definitely not regretting asking him to move in. You can hurt people without trying. I just, um… cool, Kenny. That was one of the cooler things I’ve heard you say since I got here.”

“But you’re still going to take him away?”

Kyle glanced down. “It’s for his sake, Kenny, and if you learn how to accept this, it’s for your sake, too.”

“Don’t act like you’re Mr. Mackey. I didn’t realize he could sound even stupider than he does, but you never cease to amaze, do you, Kyle?”

Kyle stepped back into his room. “Maybe you should talk to Mr. Mackey, Kenny. You could learn how to deal with this anger.”

“Why don’t you learn how to _eat_ , Kyle? It seems like a pretty simple solution, doesn’t it?”

“I’m nothing like you, Kenny.”

Kenny stepped into the room. “I just suggest you give us the slightest _glimpse_ of you making an effort, but if you can’t, stop acting like you’re any better than I am.”

Kyle stomped a foot in front of the door to keep it from closing them in automatically. “Kenny, I appreciate that you don’t understand how other people feel, but you manipulate and hurt everyone around you. It doesn’t matter if I’m no better at seeking help than you are. My problems don’t hurt people.”

Kenny pushed him back so they were securely in the room. Kyle’s eyes lit up with alarm. “What if you’re the one manipulating people, Kyle? What if I just actually really liked Stan and Tweek, and your intervention ruined what could have been a perfectly fine relationship?”

“I don’t doubt that you cared about them, Kenny,” he muttered softly. “You’re just toxic, Kenny. People are… Stan and Tweek are better with you not in their lives.”

Kenny’s eyes widened. “But you think _you_ deserve to be the one to replace me?”

“They chose me!”

“Tweek barely knows you!” Kenny grabbed at his hair angrily. “You directly told him to move in, didn’t you?”

“I did, and he immediately agreed.”

Kenny gulped down a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. “Why don’t you ever consider if there’s something wrong with _you_ , Kyle? Why doesn’t anyone? Do you know what you fucking did, Kyle?”

It occurred to him that they had both drastically overused direct address during this argument, but he liked punctuating everything with it. It sounded sharp and accusing. It had clearly worked, anyway, as Kyle just shook his head fearfully.

“You dehumanized me, Kyle. I’m not _allowed_ to have a normal relationship with people anymore because _you_ decided that I _can’t_ have a normal relationship with anyone. I was never going to do anything to Tweek, but that’s impossible for you to believe, isn’t it? So, instead, you had to convince everyone that you were right instead of just minding your own fucking business.”

Kyle looked worried, but Kenny couldn’t tell if it was guilt or fear. “Kenny, I… I don’t deny that I did that, but I don’t think I was wrong to do so.”

Kenny’s hand tightened into a fist, but he caught himself. “You can’t generalize every experience you have with me! I don’t even want a second chance with you. I just want you to let me have first chances with other people.”

“You _had_ first chances with them.”

“And neither of them pulled away until you interfered!”

Kyle frowned at Kenny, and Kenny found himself pissed off at himself for showing enough emotion that Kyle would look anything other than terrified. “This isn’t about how you treated them at the time. This is about how you always treat people. I know what you’re really like so I prevented people from being fooled. I never manipulated anyone.”

“I know it’s easier to think I can’t actually love people if I think the majority of humankind is a giant piece of shit, but it _is_ possible to do both. You can’t rationalize the fact that someone with real feelings could treat you like that, but you are actually _that_ dislikable.” Kenny stepped forward to force Kyle to back up, and he felt confident that he had successfully brought back the fear. “I am a real human, Kyle. I have feelings, and, contrary to popular opinion, I have guilt. You just don’t happen to deserve any of that.”

“You’re never going to be able to get it. I’m sorry.”

Kenny growled in his face. “God, it must be so easy for you when you can just tell yourself I don’t have normal human emotions and leave it at that. Why don’t you face your own flaws if you insist that I’m _constantly_ reminded of mine?”

Kyle sighed. “I know you’re really good at manipulating people, and you’ve managed to make me feel shitty, so I think you should leave. I want you in my life as little as possible.”

Kenny’s eyebrows shot up in response to the bluntness, but he collected himself quickly. “You will regret trying to take them away,” he spat before spinning around, walking out and slamming the door loudly behind him.

*

Seeing Tweek in the hospital had gotten more comfortable. His personality was definitely still visible most of the time, and Craig had learned to accept that sometimes the boy would just become flat, and it wasn’t his fault that it was happening. He had seen the dosages on Tweek’s prescriptions, and he still worried sometimes that hazy look in his eyes was because Craig was boring him.

It had been very comfortable this time when he could come into the room and immediately update Tweek on the Token and Wendy gossip. They hadn’t had an awkward first few minutes filled with strained conversation like usual.

There was no reason that Craig should feel the least bit comfortable, and he knew that. He’d told everyone he would tell Tweek, but he could lie. Tweek would obviously find out eventually, but Craig just wanted one more day when things could be normal.

“Yo, dude, I have to tell you something,” Craig muttered, interrupting some story Tweek had been telling about assigning people roles in the _Breakfast Club_. He was pretty sure the story had been boring as hell, but he was proud of Tweek’s ability to fill silences himself at all.

Tweek’s brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

Craig glared down at his hands. “I’m gay. I told all the others a few days ago.”

“Oh.” Craig assumed that was all he had to say on the matter, but then Tweek was asking, “Have you ever tried with a boy? Or a girl, for that matter?”

Craig’s jaw dropped. “I came out three days ago! When would I have been fucking boys?”

“I didn’t mean sex!” Tweek turned red. “I just meant, like, have you kissed both? Had the comparison?”

Craig gnawed his lip at the possible implications of this conversation. “I’ve only kissed girls, but I think I can say I’m gay with some certainty.”

Tweek paused and stared at Craig for a long second before he admitted, “I kissed a boy.”

“Ready to join the right team now?” Craig asked nonchalantly, like his ears weren’t ringing with the echoes of what Tweek had said.

Tweek was nearly crimson. “No, I don’t really know what it meant.”

“Who was it?” Craig feigned disinterest. “I thought Kyle was still dating that kid who left?”

“Stan,” Tweek supplied. “And, no, it was… like, awhile ago. Everything has been feeling like a much longer time than it’s been.”

“Stan’s the person you kissed? Who’s Stan?”

“Oh, no, I mean, that’s the name of Kyle’s boyfriend.”

Craig nodded wisely. “Ah, so you were dodging the question.” A nauseating clench in his stomach told him he already knew what the answer was going to be before Tweek reluctantly admitted it.

Tweek cringed a little. “Kenny kissed me a long time ago. Before he even died,” Tweek frowned and added, “possibly.”

“What happened?” Craig didn’t think his mastery of maintaining a completely apathetic exterior was enough to soften how harshly he’d barked out the question.

Tweek scratched at his hand absently, and Craig reached over to grab his wrist. “We got in this fight because I said I thought he was a sociopath.”

“He isn’t?”

“That’s exactly what I said! He got really angry, then I remembered this – agh, the story takes a lot of background information that you probably won’t and shouldn’t believe. He just sort of grabbed me later, and then… in my defense, fear and arousal are very difficult feelings to distinguish physiologically, but then I stopped him, and he didn’t talk to me for a couple days until he pulled that stunt with the gun.”

Craig was just staring at Tweek, mind-boggled at the fact that he had said the word _arousal_ with no traces of irony or discomfort. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tweek shrugged. “In the grand scheme of things, it’s not one of my more relevant interactions with him.”

“But… how could it _not_ be?”

“This is my life at stake, man! My brain, at the very least. I don’t care about any of that shit except for knowing that I definitely don’t want to kiss _him_!”

“I thought you two were friends? Or, partners in insanity or something?”

Tweek’s lip curled downwards as he stared at the bedspread. “I guess we are partners in insanity, but I don’t want anything else to do with him. I’m moving into Kyle’s room tonight.” His voice sounded very flat when he said it, and Craig didn’t get the impression it was because he had been overly medicated.

Craig should’ve been getting what he wanted. Tweek wouldn’t be living with Kenny, but part of the fantasy had included Tweek genuinely not wanting to live with him. “What made you decide to move out?”

Tweek groaned a little before weakly recalling the story Kyle had told him. Craig had lamely gotten goose bumps during the story, but it did leave him with a huge amount of relief that Tweek had consented to switch rooms. It also left a fair amount of fear and anger that Kenny would ever dare make Tweek his next target.

“I’m glad you’re getting the fuck out,” Craig said finally, giving Tweek a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“I haven’t… I never told him I was going to. I know he knows because I found the approval form all crumpled on my bed, but I haven’t seen him since then.”

Craig scowled. “You don’t owe him a goodbye, Tweek. All you need to do is get the fuck out.”

*

Not much could be said about Tweek’s actual recovery, but he did follow instructions. True to his promises to Kyle and Craig, he spent the rest of the night getting the fuck out. It wasn’t worth packing things in boxes to move them across the hall, and Tweek ended up spending most of the night going between the rooms with armfuls of his stuff.

Kenny appeared sometime in the room before his last few armfuls. Tweek looked up guiltily from pulling the blanket off his bed, but Kenny just eyed him disdainfully and flopped down on his own bed.

He didn’t look at Tweek again, and it gave Tweek enough time to watch him as he reached for a book and flipped to his bookmarked page disinterestedly. The title of the book had the word “Psychopath” in it somewhere, and Tweek wondered for a second how many of the facts about psychiatry Kenny spouted were actually true. He’d caught Kenny with Playboys inside books so often that he’d never actually checked what the boy actually did read.

He tore out of the room with an armful of his blankets and table lamp. When he returned, Kenny was still calmly reading, and he continued to ignore Tweek’s actions for the next few loads.

Finally, Tweek had the last of his things firmly in his grasp, and he stared hard at Kenny like he was waiting for him to say something. He didn’t, and Tweek wondered if he was actually so apathetic to Tweek’s presence that he hadn’t noticed this was the last trip he had to make to this room.

“I’m moving into Kyle’s room,” Tweek said weakly. _Goodbye_ seemed too permanent for a boy who would be living right across the hall, and an explanation seemed like more than Kenny deserved.

Kenny glanced away from his book to survey Tweek’s side of the room dispassionately before returning to reading.

Tweek shifted from foot to foot. “You can respond. I know you knew.”

With a sigh, Kenny shut his book and stood up like he was about to address Tweek, but he just swept past him into the hallway. Tweek rushed out of the room after him. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Acting like what, Tweek?” Kenny didn’t turn around to respond to him.

Tweek crumpled. “This… this silent treatment bullshit! If you’re mad, just be mad. I don’t want to wait for you to figure out whatever horrible thing you’re going to do.”

Kenny spun around with anger Tweek hadn’t seen since he’d inadvertently accused him of being a sociopath. “I’m not going to do _any_ horrible thing to you, Tweek. Did you stop to think _this silent treatment bullshit_ is for your sake, not mine?”

“If you’re mad, I want you to tell me. That’s what people do.”

“I don’t want to tell you, though, so I guess you’re just going to have to go find Kyle and talk about how awful I am to ease the blow of me _ignoring_ you.” Kenny almost laughed. “I would have assumed the point of moving out of my room was to interact with me less.”

“I just,” Tweek looked helplessly down at the extraneous shit in his arms. “Why’d you do that to Kyle?”

Kenny smiled sarcastically. “I just wanted Kyle to know he _is_ worth shit.”

“Do you hate the world, or do you just want it to hate you?”

Kenny cocked his head to the side and stared at Tweek with the same interest he’d started showing after Tweek had remembered he’d killed himself.

“I like to think the world and I had a mutual split.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus points if you get the reference in the title


	12. Takers

Tweek woke up in his new bed at seven am when an exhausted Kyle slipped back into the room. With a muffled groan, Tweek forced himself to roll over on his side and observe Kyle’s morning routine of pretending his morning routine hadn’t started three hours ago.

Kyle glanced over at the noise and grinned. “I can’t say I’m unhappy you’re not afraid to sleep in your room, but I missed you in the common room last night.”

Somehow, Tweek thought that moving into Kyle’s room would stop whatever drove _him_ to leave his room in the middle of the night, too, but he realized how wrong that idea was now. Kyle had done it even when Stan was the person living with him. Tweek moving into Kyle’s room was for no one’s benefit but his own.

“And there was no shit on our door?” he mumbled sleepily.

Kyle looked a little startled, but he smiled. “None at all, but I wouldn’t drink any coffee you don’t get for yourself for awhile.” 

Kenny had told Tweek he wasn’t planning any kind of revenge, but, well, Tweek didn’t really believe him. He had told Kyle about the interaction, and Kyle had agreed that Kenny probably wasn’t planning any kind of revenge _at the moment_. That didn’t mean he wasn’t equally likely to change his decision at any moment.

There was, Tweek was finally realizing, no defense of him. Defending Kenny was like defending his delusions. People would just be sympathetic and pitying that he didn’t have the capacity to understand who Kenny really was.

“He wouldn’t touch my coffee, would he?”

Kyle smirked. “Kenny holds stimulants pretty sacred. It would probably violate whatever code of ethics he always talks about to tamper with someone’s.”

Tweek stretched out leisurely before tensing back up into a ball. “Code of ethics?”

“Once Kenny realized everyone thinks he’s a sociopath, he decided to really ham up his code of ethics. I’m surprised he didn’t go full Damien with them and carve them onto stone plates or something.”

“ _Go full Damien_ …?”

“You know? Like the ten commandments?” Kyle casually pulled a towel and pair of shower sandals out of his closet. It had been a little while since Tweek felt completely out of the loop, but things got more muddled every time someone mentioned that name.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled feebly and rolled back to his other side as Kyle started stripping for the shower.

“That prophet bullshit. It’s lucky I’m Jewish,” Kyle paused with his hand on the door. “Even if Kenny were the second coming, I’d never have to acknowledge him.” With that, he disappeared into the hall and left Tweek in a room he was only _slightly_ more at ease in.

*

Token had to simmer on his bullshit. Craig could respect that was was being a douchebag when he made jokes about minorities, but really? Token getting a girl’s phone number did not warrant as big a celebration as his coming out.

Clyde had his arm around Token’s shoulder as they strode down the halls of South Park High, staring at the contact information for Wendy Testaburger like it had been sent straight from God into Token’s phone.

“You gotta call her man,” Clyde said simply.

“T-Tweek said she was a guh-good nurse. She proba- prob _ah_ \- probably can cure your sexual frustration.”

“I don’t have any sexual frustration!” Token snapped, slipping the phone back in his pocket.

Clyde smiled wisely. “A person who was sexually satisfied wouldn’t snap at us like that.”

“What do you know about sexual satisfaction?” Craig interjected rudely, but Clyde just waved him off.

“Just because I’ve never managed to give a _girl_ an orgasm does not mean they have never given me orgasms, okay? It’s called being a Taker, and it’s perfectly acceptable.”

Craig, Token and Jimmy exchanged looks that made Craig sure they were struggling as hard as he was to not burst out laughing.

“You do… believe in the female orgasm, right?” Token clarified gently.

Clyde rolled his eyes. “I’m sexually inept, Token, not Republican.”

No one made an attempt to conceal their laughter this time. Token clapped him on the shoulder and gave a nod of approval. “Spoken like a true South Park citizen.”

“I guh-gave a woman an orgasm when I was nine,” Jimmy boasted, and Clyde flipped him off.

Token was almost gasping for breath at that point. “I gave a girl an orgasm at some age _after_ nine. Then I continued to-.”

“I get it!” Clyde interrupted, sending the other three into another fit of hysterical laughter. “ _Right, real funny, Clyde can’t give girls orgasms._ I bet Craig couldn’t either!”

“I’m gay, dude. Does that help your argument?”

A group of girls passing by them in the hall started giggling madly, and Clyde groaned. “We’re done with this. This is the end of this topic.”

Token held out his phone mockingly. “Maybe Nurse Wendy can help cure your poor sexual performance.”

“You all suck!” Clyde snapped as he had so many times in the past before storming away from the other boys.

Craig turned to Token with a grin. “How long do you think until he talks to us again?”

Token shrugged. “Never more than a week. Although usually he only stops talking to _you_ , so he might cave faster this time.”

Craig snorted in agreement before pausing to glance at Jimmy. “Your dick works?”

“Puh-perfectly.”

Craig and Token both nodded approvingly. “Good to hear.”

*

Tweek had a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sat opposite Dr. Garrison. As little as he respected the man, he was the only doctor Tweek saw. His word was what mattered.

“Alright, Tweek. I don’t know if Mr. Mackey explained what’s going to happen today, but after a few weeks as a patient, we like to give our tentative diagnoses and explain your prognosis.”

Tweek felt his heart beat faster. He had never heard Dr. Garrison sound professional before. It was vaguely foreboding. He forced himself to nod.

“As you know, when you were administered to the hospital, most of your friends and the staff believed you had some sort of anxiety disorder.”

“I don’t?”

Dr. Garrison openly laughed. “Oh, no, you definitely do, Twitch. We didn’t need a medical professional for that.”

Tweek looked puzzled.

“We’ll get to that later,” Dr. Garrison said like he was giving Tweek an explanation. “Dr. Victoria, Mr. Mackey and I have been discussing this for the past week, and we believe that you have developed a very rare condition.” Dr. Garrison cleared his throat. “We’ve had this theory before, and our therapies proved… inadequate, so Dr. Victoria has made a request to join this session if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

Dr. Garrison typed something into his computer then turned back to Tweek. “She’ll be here shortly. Now, anxiety disorders,” he pointed at Tweek like he had something important to say but had forgotten it. Tweek waited expectantly. “Ah, yes. Panic Disorder. Generalized Anxiety Disorder.”

Tweek stared at him blankly. “Are you going to explain any further?”

Dr. Garrison nodded. “Those are your anxiety disorders.”

“Do people with Panic Disorder usually see Hell?”

Dr. Garrison lifted a finger. “That is what Dr. Victoria will be in in a moment to explain.”

Tweek waited obediently until there was a knock on the door, and Dr. Victoria entered with a refreshing air of capability (especially in comparison to Dr. Garrison). “Tweek,” she greeted warmly, taking a seat next to Dr. Garrison. “How have you been?”

“Fine.”

She smiled calmingly. “I understand you filed for a room change yesterday. How was your first night with Mr. Broflovski?”

“It was fine.”

Dr. Victoria nodded like this was the answer she had expected. “I’m afraid I must make this brief, Tweak. I hope you won’t be offended. One of our _doctors_ ,” she accentuated deliberately, casting Dr. Garrison a scornful look, “angered PC Head of Medicine, and I’m due to meet with him soon.”

Tweek nodded.

“Okay, Tweek, I warn you first that what I’m about to tell you is a very _tentative_ diagnosis, and it may be somewhat shocking until you’ve internalized what it means.”

His eyes widened, but he nodded again.

She smiled sympathetically. “Have you ever heard of Shared Psychotic Disorder, Tweek?”

He shook his head.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like, really. It’s a disorder that is shared between two people – typically when they have a very _intense_ , long-term relationship. If one member of the pair has severe psychosis and an, _ah_ , dominant influence, it is possible for the otherwise healthy member of the pair to adopt the other’s delusions and hallucinations.”

Tweek felt his blood slowing down. “I haven’t had an intense, long-term relationship with Kenny,” he said bluntly.

“No one said anything about Kenny yet,” Dr. Garrison assured him, and Dr. Victoria looked annoyed.

“It is a very rare disorder, Tweek, and we believe that your strong anxiety may have given you a predisposition to – _God dammit, Garrison_ – Kenny’s influence.”

“Okay,” Tweek snarled, beginning to feel anger bubbling up. “But I haven’t had _any_ relationship with him.”

Dr. Garrison sighed. “Well, I owe Al ten dollars.”

“ _Dr. Garrison, we’ve had to speak multiple times about betting on_ – excuse me, Tweek. We are not insinuating you two have had any sort of romantic relationship. Would you describe your relationship with Mr. McCormick as intense?”

Tweek frowned. “I would. Because I had those hallucinations before I ever met him.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that immediately? In that case you’re just psychotic on your own!” Dr. Garrison snapped. “Do you know how long we spent on WebMD?”

Dr. Victoria looked horrified. She was still quite pretty, and Tweek wondered if she was secretly only thirty, and working with Dr. Garrison had just aged her another thirty years. “Dr. Garrison, I have to leave for my meeting, but I expect the utmost professionalism while I’m gone, are we clear?”

He nodded and rolled his eyes like a child being scolded.

“And don’t think I won’t send someone to check in on you two,” she added warningly as she stood up. “It was so lovely to see you again, Tweek. I assure you – we will touch base privately very soon. I sincerely apologize for presenting you with such convoluted information.” She smiled at him and disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived.

“Dammit, Tweek, why didn’t you say you had these hallucinations before you got to the hospital?”

“All I said was that they’d gotten worse here!”

Dr. Garrison sighed and rubbed his temples. “Do you not see how this changes everything?”

Tweek flipped him off. He didn’t know where this anger had come from, but it was there. “You are _my_ doctor. It’s not my fault if I’m hard to diagnosis. Do your fucking job, and I’ll do mine.”

Dr. Garrison froze, a troubled looking passing over his face. Tweek waited in annoyance until he was sure Dr. Garrison wasn’t going to say anything, then he demanded, “what?”

He shook his thoughts out. “Nothing. Another patient said those exact words to me once. Funny coincidence. Anyway, on to your psychosis!”

“Did Kenny say them?”

Dr. Garrison sighed. “Tweek, I’m sure we could get you published as a case study if you _hadn’t_ had the delusions before meeting Mr. McCormick, but as it stands, you’re just a regular loon, and he is irrelevant to your recovery, so let’s figure out what type of loon you are, okay?”

“Are you kidding?”

“The faster we diagnose you, the faster we can treat you properly.”

“You can’t treat _anyone_ properly.”

Dr. Garrison furrowed his brows together. “Tweek, what was your psychosis like before you met Kenny?”

“Exactly the same.”

He leaned forwards. “Does it surprise you to know that, when Kenny arrived, he claimed he had the ability to rise from the dead?”

Tweek felt his heart start punching his chest. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve heard people talk about it,” Tweek muttered defensively.

Dr. Garrison cocked his head to one side. “That’s interesting because everyone in the hospital other than you _knew_ not to bring it up.”

“You clearly don’t know your patients if you think they’d listen to that.”

“Do you know _why_ no one was allowed to bring it up, Tweek?”

Tweek wanted to bring up that Kenny’s patient information should be kept confidential, but he was too curious to distract Dr. Garrison. “Because he doesn’t?”

“Yes, I think we can assume he has never actually resurrected from the dead, but he also happened to befriend a schizophrenic patient we had before your admission.”

Tweek gaped at him. This was Damien. The way his heart was thumping _promised_ him this was Damien.

“This patient was a freak, too. He definitely would’ve been fucked up without Kenny’s influence, but he still latched onto Kenny and these stories with complete belief. Now, this is certainly crossing the line of doctor-patient confidentiality, but that patient began to think that Kenny was Satan’s gift to the Earth.”

“ _Agh- what?_ ”

Dr. Garrison looked more serious than Tweek had seen him before. It might have just been the clear pity in his gaze. “The point of telling you this, Tweek, is that Kenny has now developed a pattern of worsening patients’ delusions. We would have mandated moving out of his room if you hadn’t chosen to do so already, but Mr. Mackey and I have agreed that you may want to consider moving to a different suite.”

Tweek stared at him.

“Unfortunately, we were so sure we’d hit the goldmine with shared psychosis that I can’t offer you any other possibilities at the moment, but psychotic disorders tend to be quickly degenerative if not treated quickly. Coupled with the frequency of your panic attacks, Tweek, well...”

“So what’s my prognosis?” He felt himself asking.

“Nothing’s ever set in stone, Tweek. We really do need to spend some more time on WebMD. I will not force you to leave this suite if you feel attached to it, but I want you to know that the worst case scenario _is_ bad. It might be slightly less probable without interacting with Kenny. That is for you to decide.”

Tweek rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s telling me to figure out if Kenny’s dangerous or not! Why don’t you just open up his fucking chart and tell me?”

Dr. Garrison smiled at Tweek, slightly less meanly than usual. “And why would you ever think Kenny’s being honest during his therapy sessions?”

*

It had been a pretty fantastic day for Craig Tucker. It was always hilarious when he pissed off Clyde too much for him to talk to him, but this time he didn’t even have Token, Tweek and Jimmy chiding him for hurting Clyde’s feelings. Because they had all hurt his feelings. Together. As a _family_.

Honestly, his heart hadn’t been this warm since Clyde sent him that video of unlikely animal friendships.

He didn’t even realize the danger of losing Clyde as a buffer until he sank down into a chair next to Token for their free period and realized that, without Clyde, this free period would be just him and Token.

That shouldn’t be weird. The two of them had driven to the hospital alone together three times now.

It wouldn’t be weird if Token didn’t have that strange stare on his face.

“Can I copy your bio homework?” Craig asked finally, to break the silence.

Token leaned back in his seat. “Three times, Craig.”

“I’ve definitely copied your homework more than three times.”

“No, I mean, we’ve gone to the hospital together three times. It was enough time for Wendy to give me her number, honestly, probably out of pity. All you’ve told me is that you’ve told him you’re gay, but you continue monopolizing these private visits with him. I’ve seen Tweek, like, an hour total over the past three visits.”

Craig tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Those are all facts.”

“So?”

He gave Token a look of clearly faked innocence. “That’s what’s happened. I don’t know what else there is to tell?”

Token heaved a sigh. “I didn’t want to have to do this, Craig. Believe it or not, people hate talking about your feelings with you just as much as you hate it.”

Craig cringed. “What if we opted not to talk about my feelings?”

“You like Tweek.”

“No, I just like Tweek _better_ than I like other people. You’ve misread that.” God, he had almost gulped. He really had to learn how to lie better.

Token looked at him sadly. “Do you not want to tell him because he’s in a mental hospital?”

“I’m not fucking _ashamed_ of him.” Craig’s fist came crashing down on the table in front of Token, and Token jolted back from the shock.

“I meant, more, are you giving up on him?” Token looked guilty to even ask it, and Craig felt his blood boil.

“I’m _obviously_ giving up on him,” Craig spat sarcastically. “That’s _definitely_ why I visit him multiple times a week. Fuck yourself, Token.”

Token twiddled his thumbs nervously. It wasn’t his most attractive tic. “There’s a difference between giving up on him as a friend and giving up, hm,” Token paused and looked to Craig like he could fill in the blanks himself.

Craig slammed his book shut. “Tweek has a lot more to worry about than things like that. He told me so himself. He’s not romantically interested in anyone, and he’s not questioning his sexuality. Why would I burden him with this?”

“What if he doesn’t see it as a burden?”

Craig started shoving things in his bag even as Token sat back helplessly and watched him pack up. “I know we’re all one big happy _family_ , but why don’t you trust my judgment when I think something’s best for Tweek?”

“I think there are things to him you either don’t see or are ignoring, Craig. We all fucking love Tweek.”

He stood up and swung his bag around his shoulders. “If you really loved Tweek, you would be more understanding of what I’m doing. You aren’t, so clearly you don’t.”

He stormed out of the library, trying to ignore the traces of that final pitying stare Token had given him as he walked off.

He was definitely not invited next time Craig went to the hospital.

*

“Hey, Chef.”

“Hey, children. You know you’re not allowed in the kitchen, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, alright. How’re you doing today, Kenny?”

“Bad.”

“Why bad?”

“My roommate moved out.”

“Now why’d he go and do a thing like that?”

“He didn’t tell me, but he moved in with Kyle.”

Chef turned away from wrapping up trays to stare at Kenny seriously. Kenny squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze. He obviously hadn’t been able to keep what he’d done from anyone else in the hospital, and even if he had managed to keep Chef and Al as friends, they never told him that it _hadn’t_ made them lose any respect for him. “Now you’re not going to go and do anything stupid, are you?”

Kenny glared at Chef. “ _No_. I’m not.”

“You better not, Kenny. You know what would happen if they decided to move you somewhere else.”

Kenny gritted his teeth. Yes, he had been told many times that the only other options for mental hospitals where Damien’s current hospital and the Center for the Criminally Insane. Dr. Victoria had made it very clear which she intended to refer him to. “I’m not planning on doing anything! Can you believe I’m trying to talk to you because I feel _sad_?”

A guilty look flickered across Chef’s face, and he moved to stand in front of Kenny. “Tell me what happened, children.”

Kenny smiled a little. “Well, you know how I used to get in trouble for saying I would die and come back?” Chef gave him a stern look, and Kenny chuckled. “What would the doctors say if I told them Tweek _remembers_ this happening, do you think?”

Chef frowned. “Is this something I need to tell Dr. Garrison about?”

“You’d think that, with the amount of stupid shit you believe in, you’d hear me out on this.”

“The existence of aliens, UFOs, and Skuzzlebutt have all been proven by witnesses.”

“ _And the existence of me dying has been proven by witnesses_.”

Chef stiffened, and Kenny glowered at him. “You were willing to believe in a Christmas-themed piece of shit when it was Kyle, even though that was _clearly_ a projection of his fecal obsession.”

“Mr. Hanky just wanted him to see that not all poops are bad, Kenny.”

“I know you’re going to have to suspend your disbelief, but you’re the only person I know who would believe in something like this. There’s something going on here that isn’t psychosis, and you can refuse to believe me dying all you want, but there has to be a way to take away whatever’s affecting _him_.”

“Kenny, I really think this is something you’re supposed to tell Dr. Garrison.” Chef looked nervous, but he was definitely interested.

“I’m not going to tell him, though, so you could either trust me enough to hear me out, or I could leave?” Kenny thrust out his chin defiantly, and Chef’s gaze softened.

“What do you think is happening, Kenny?”

“Something’s giving Tweek visions of being in Hell. I die and come back, but no one ever remembers. Tweek remembers, though.” For the amount that Kenny liked hearing the sound of his own voice, he could really be succinct when he needed to be. Chef’s eyebrows shot straight up, and Kenny grinned proudly.

Chef scratched his hair in deep thought. “You won’t tell Dr. Garrison about this?”

“Do you really think he’d help?”

“And you _really_ don’t think it might just be a symptom of your disorders?”

Kenny grinned. “Don’t you think if a hospital could get their hands on a psychotic patient who vividly hallucinated dying, going to Hell, and waking up the next day, and another patient who could remember this happening, they’d have published some fucking papers on it? That’s crazy _gold_ , Chef.”

He groaned. “You’re really set on this.”

“I just need you to give him some of that stupid, unfounded belief that you give aliens and Skuzzlebutt. Is that too much to ask if it could literally save a kid?”

Chef sighed. “Then there’s only two people I can think of who would know anything about this. I’ll check flights from Scotland now.”


	13. Shut It Down

So that was it for hope, then. Tweek hadn’t told Kyle about the session, including his tentative diagnosis and prognosis. He hadn’t told anyone. He would have to at some point so his friends would know not to hope for a speedy recovery, but the energy was just not in him right now.

Hope, unfortunately, did not disappear from the hospital as a whole. As he slipped out of his room to face another useless day, he found Kenny McCormick waiting outside like he had been there for awhile. For a second, Kenny looked slightly ashamed to have been noticeably waiting for Tweek, but he immediately bounced back.

“You need to come with me.”

Tweek offered nothing but a grunt and small shake of his head.

“I _know_ you don’t trust me, Tweek. I know. But there’s not that much worth trusting in this world so I suggest you hear me out.”

Tweek flicked his deadened eyes over Kenny scornfully. “I’d rather trust Dr. Garrison.”

“Why?”

“Probably because he never smeared shit on someone else’s door or drove a schizophrenic patient more insane than he was to begin with,” Tweek spat as he tried to maneuver past Kenny.

Kenny’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know who told you about that patient, but I didn’t do shit to him.”

“As in you didn’t smear shit on his door or you didn’t do shit?”

Kenny raised an eyebrow. “You sound exactly like Kyle.”

With a jolt, Tweek pushed Kenny out of his path. “Probably because Kyle is right about you.”

Kenny stumbled back but immediately caught Tweek by the arm. “All Kyle knows about me is how I treat _him_. He’s just too self-centered to see the bigger picture.”

“And what is the bigger picture, Kenny?” Tweek asked with a resigned sigh.

“That I want to help you. I can help you. You just need to follow me.”

Tweek frowned. “Is that the bigger picture or just an equally sized picture of a different thing?”

“You know who gives shits about semantics? Stan and Kyle.”

“ _Obviously_ they’ve corrupted me, Kenny. They have so much history of being unsupportive to other patie- oh, wait, no. I was thinking of you. It must be those K names.” Tweek yanked his arm out of Kenny’s grip. “Don’t act like you want to or can help anyone. You can’t even help yourself.”

“Helping myself isn’t the problem right now!” Kenny jogged to catch up with Tweek as he adamantly refused to slow down or make eye contact. “I’m offering you a way out, and you aren’t taking it. That’s you not helping yourself.”

Tweek made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. “Thanks, Dr. McCormick.”

Kenny stopped to watch as Tweek pulled open the door downstairs. For a second, Tweek’s resolve broke, and he glanced back to see if Kenny wasn’t following him to breakfast. Kenny was just watching him with a strange expression on his face.

“What happened?”

Tweek blinked. “What do you mean?”

Kenny walked towards Tweek slowly, placing a hand on top of his head in a strange gesture that made Tweek squirm internally. “Something bad has happened since the last time I’ve seen you.”

“That would be seeing you right now,” Tweek responded promptly before spinning around in front of the door and stalking back to his bedroom. Fuck breakfast. He had more important things to do. He didn’t pause to look back at Kenny, and Kenny didn’t say anything else.

When Tweek was safely alone in his room, he repeatedly pressed the button to call a nurse until Wendy showed up, looking slightly flushed.

“Tweek, are you okay? Is it an emergency?”

Tweek sank down onto his bed, a flood of relief hitting him with the help of Wendy’s presence. “I need you to call my emergency contact. Tell him to come visit today.”

Wendy nodded understandingly. “Craig?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go call him right now.” Wendy rushed out of the room but paused with her hand on the doorframe to give Tweek a small grin. “Do you want Token to visit too?”

Tweek managed a weak laugh. “That one’s up to you.”

“Then I won’t make the poor boy sit in the waiting room for another multi-hour visit.” Wendy grinned and disappeared out of the door. She doubled back for a second, and Tweek looked up curiously as Wendy worried her bottom lip. “Craig knows how to drive, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

A large smile spread over Wendy’s face. “Okay. Got it.”

 

*

 

“So what you’re really saying is that they don’t _know_ what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m psychotic, Craig! I’m going to be fucking psychotic my whole life, and I’m in the care of the most inept team of doctors in the world!”

“You don’t have to be at this hospital.”

“Yes, I do!”

“No, Tweek, actually you don’t.” Craig was pacing back and forth across the floor of the room, which Kyle had respectfully left empty for the two of them. “Why did you want to stay here? You wanted to figure out what the hell is wrong with Kenny? You’ve gotten your answer, dude. He’s psychotic, and he’s hurting you.”

Tweek toed at the floor nervously. “I think there’s a little bit of me that still wants to believe this is real.”

Craig would have been tugging on his hair if it were anywhere near as long as Tweek’s. “Your perception of the world is skewed right now, Tweek. Most of you probably wants to believe it’s real, but… you really just need to stay away from Kenny. I don’t have any other advice to give you.”

“I’m not seeking him out.”

“No, but you’re in his hospital. Does he seek you out?”

Tweek frowned. “He told me to follow him so he could help me this morning,” he admitted finally.

“Did you?”

Tweek snorted ruefully, and Craig nodded, dropping onto the bed next to Tweek and wrapping his arm around the boy’s skinny shoulders.

“It’ll get better, Tweek.”

“Probably not.”

His voice sounded so defeated. Craig tightened his grip. “Tweek, you’re going to get better.”

“How can you sound so sure of that?”

“There’s no other option.”

“There are other options.”

Craig’s eyes immediately narrowed. “Tweek, you’re going to keep fighting until you’re better, okay? Don’t be a fucking pussy.”

“Thanks, Craig. I feel a lot better.”

Craig rubbed his temples. “Even if you don’t get better, I’ll still be there, Tweek. Even if you get worse. Even if you get to the point where you’re so far gone you’re smearing shit on the walls in a non-Kenny way. I’ll still be there. I may be laughing at you at the time, but I’ll be laughing _with_ the real Tweek. I know who you are. No disorder is going to take that away from me.”

Tweek’s poor attempt at a calm exterior crumbled. “You’re only saying that now.”

“Try me, Tweek. You wanna smear some shit on my walls and see if I can live with it? I’ll do it if that proves anything. I’d rather _not_ do it because I think you’re going to beat this, but I will.”

Tweek laughed weakly, and Craig grinned at the small but positive response. “This is going to be my whole life.”

Craig shrugged. “Then it’s going to be my whole life, too.”

“Do you want to share my psychosis?” Tweek meant it as a warning, but he and Craig were both laughing within seconds of the words leaving his mouth.

It was incredibly cathartic. On a normal day, that joke might have warranted a giggle, but Tweek and Craig were both clutching each other as they doubled over in laughter.

“C-can I have another helping of psychosis, please?” Craig gasped out through his laughter.

Tweek elbowed him in the stomach. “I have plenty to go around. Don’t worry. I can probably even share with Clyde, Token and Jimmy.”

“So much for feeling special. I thought it was _our_ psychosis.” Craig bit his knuckle to keep from laughing. “You’re being such a whore-llucinator.”

“Oh, wow, that pun was awful.”

“Really bad, right?”

“It sounds like a joke Jimmy came up with.”

Craig clutched his heart. “Jimmy is a _professional_ comedian, Tweek. By the way, he wanted me to ask you if his new joke is funny or offensive.”

“Go for it.”

“Okay, so an agoraphobe walks into a bar. The bartender says, “god dammit, I told you not to build a bar in our house.” _Ba dum chee_.”

Tweek tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I think it’s just not funny?”

“That’s what I said too.”

“He shouldn’t use that in his routine.”

Craig snickered. “He shouldn’t use most of his jokes in his routine.”

Tweek clutched Craig’s arm dramatically. “Before I forget! I think Wendy likes Token, too!”

“No way, no way!” Craig squealed, before regretting those words ever slipping out of his mouth. Even Tweek raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I mean… dope. She’s hot as fuck.”

“Craig, was Token coming to the hospital every time you visited? I’ve only seen him once.”

Craig yawned innocently. “He might’ve preferred sitting in the waiting room for some of those visits, yes.”

Tweek nodded like the rush of excitement had worn him out tremendously. “Craig, are you waiting for any good surprises?” He didn’t realize he had used the exact same words Stan used to refer to Kenny until after the words burst out.

Craig looked at Tweek thoughtfully. “Nah, I’m just waiting for the good that I know is going to come. I fucking hate surprises.”

“Why do you keep insisting I’m going to get better?”

“I didn’t say you were going to get better. You were never going to be a good surprise. You’re just good.”

Tweek recoiled slightly, and Craig instinctively grabbed his hand. They stared at each other for a second with expressions of mutual terror before Craig’s lips clumsily collided with Tweek’s.

Craig Tucker was kissing a boy.

Craig Tucker was being kissed _back_ by a boy.

He wasn’t sure how long it took for them to find their rhythm or how long it took for Tweek to pull back, looking slightly awestruck and slightly guilty, before vomiting promptly on the floor. He grabbed a tissue and spat into it for good measure.

Craig’s jaw dropped, and Tweek shook his head apologetically. “I didn’t eat breakfast so I took all my medications on an empty stomach. I’m so sorry, Craig. It wasn’t because of…”

They couldn’t even say the fucking word.

They just started laughing again until Tweek threw up again, and Craig buried his nose in the collar of his shirt. “I take it back. I don’t want you to smear shit in my room. Can we clean this stuff up?”

Tweek attempted to reach for the nursing button without setting foot on the floor, but he was distracted by the door swinging open and making a smooth arc in the vomit on the floor.

“Sick, dude!” Kyle’s muffled voice shouted from the hallway. Then, slightly hopefully, he added, “Was Stan here?”

“No, Tweek just threw up. He took his meds on an empty stomach.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow at Tweek then glanced down at the vomit with a slight smirk. “Yeah, that happened to Stan, too,” he muttered off-handedly. “Anyway, c’mon dude. You’re going to miss group.”

Tweek pointed at the vomit. “Can I get a note from my doctor that I’m sick?”

“Sure, come ask them in group,” Kyle shot back before stepping out of the room carefully.

For a second, Tweek and Craig just stared down at the vomit on the floor, desperately avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll come back tomorrow?” Craig asked finally to break the silence.

Tweek smiled and spat into a tissue again. “Please do.”

Craig easily stretched a long leg over the puddle and reached a hand over to help Tweek to the door. “Take your meds on a full stomach next time, okay?”

Tweek nodded obediently, stifling the urge to grin like a maniac as he walked Craig to the exit of the ward.

The other patients were already in their seats for group, but this time only Nurse Al and Wendy stood in front of the group next to a dry erase board.

“Spit again,” Craig murmured into Tweek’s ear. Tweek leaned over to spit loudly into the trash, and he could have sworn he heard Kyle laughing loudly from his spot on the couch. “Bye, Tweek.” Craig pressed his lips lightly against Tweek’s and pulled back, wrinkling his nose but grinning as he disappeared downstairs.

“Yeah, I told you Stan did the same thing,” Kyle called loudly to Tweek’s back before Tweek walked awkwardly over to his couch and sat next to Kyle with a blush spreading across his entire face.

Butters was beaming at Tweek, and Cartman just seemed to be struggling to remember where he was already sitting after his sixth round of ECT. Kenny stared blindly at some spot on the wall, and Tweek didn’t want to find out what would happen if he tried to catch his attention.

Wendy clapped her hands for attention, and Tweek noticed she was smiling at him too. Fucking Token had to mix Tweek’s business with his pleasure. “Alright, guys, so Dr. Garrison and Mr. Mackey were called into a meeting tonight. That means Al and I get to lead group.”

“So are we free to go?” Cartman asked without missing a beat.

Wendy narrowed her eyes. “No, it means I’m not going to tolerate your bullshit because I’m not your doctor.”

“I’m not going to tolerate you…r bullshit,” Cartman shot back before giving up the battle and leaning back into the couch. “Whatever.”

Al smiled. “Alright, then! Today we’re going to talk about mentalization. Does anyone have any guesses as to what that is?”

“The process by which you become mental?” Kenny asked in a lifeless drone.

“We don’t bloody say “mental” like that in America,” Butters responded in a poor Cockney accent.

“Incorrect, Kenny, but great usage of word etymologies! Anyone else have any guesses?” Wendy rolled her eyes, clearly agreeing with the other patients that Al’s favor for Kenny was entirely unfounded and inappropriate.

Kyle’s hand shot up. “I think I know the answer, Wendy!”

“ _I think I know the answer, Wendy_ ,” Kenny mimicked in a harsh interpretation of Kyle’s voice.

Kyle flipped him off. “Resorting to stealing Cartman’s jokes now?”

Cartman glanced around in confusion. “What joke did I make?”

 

*

 

“I think you two can both guess why you’re here,” Dr. Victoria said as she stared at Dr. Garrison and Mr. Mackey sternly.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Victoria,” Mr. Mackey muttered like a schoolboy being chided by the principal.

“I’m not. I have a million guesses for why I’m here. Which one is it?”

Dr. Victoria frowned at Dr. Garrison. “It starts with your complete lack of professionalism as a doctor and ends with your inability to keep patients in suite 13.”

“Well, it’s not my fault they want to leave! Everyone there’s a little asshole!”

Dr. Victoria slapped a file down on her desk sharply. “And you two are in charge of keeping the environment positive enough that patients don’t need to be moved to other suites or hospitals for better care. P.C. Head of Medicine has made it very clear that he is embarrassed to be affiliated with this psychiatric hospital.”

“Fuck him.”

“Dr. Garrison, your job is on the line. I suggest you listen respectfully. Your suite is supposed to fit eight patients. You have five, and I would be willing to bet you’re not going to be able to keep that number til the end of the month.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to bet on our patients.”

Mr. Mackey shushed Dr. Garrison nervously. “What are you saying, Dr. Victoria?”

She smiled at him sadly. “I’m afraid that suite 13 has become dysfunctional beyond my wildest nightmares, and we’re really getting a good crop of eating disorder patients since the Victoria’s Secret angels touched up their photoshopping. P.C. Head of Medicine suggests we turn it into an eating disorder ward, and I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“What about our five patients, Dr. Victoria?” Mr. Mackey asked hesitantly.

“Screw them! What about my _job_?”

Dr. Victoria glanced at Dr. Garrison disparagingly. “We will, of course, discuss this more one-on-one, but perhaps a job in an industry with which you are acquainted may suit you better. As for your patients, we have a few suites with open rooms-.”

“So why aren’t those suites being shut down?”

Dr. Victoria sighed. “If you want the truth, Dr. Garrison, it is because those suites have capable doctors and do not have Kenny McCormick or Eric Cartman present to scare off new patients. You two have until the end of the week to decide what to do with each patient. They are, for the most part, always welcome in this hospital; however, the Hills-Barnes Center and the South Park Center for the Criminally Insane remain options. As does discharging the patient if you two, _and I_ , deem them fit to leave.”

Mr. Mackey and Dr. Garrison exchanged helpless glances.

“I’m very sorry to spring this on you, but you must have been aware that your suite was, to put it lightly, a practice in the maladaptive behaviors we aim to fight here.”

“We have Kenny and Eric!”

“And they are your _patients_ , Dr. Garrison. Their failure to receive adequate treatment is that of the staff.”

“It’s _our_ fault Eric Cartman couldn’t be cured?” Mr. Mackey asked abruptly, finally showing some of the anger written across Dr. Garrison’s face.

“You were given tough patients, but your job is to handle tough patients, Mr. Mackey. You were unable to perform the most basic obligation of your jobs. Most patients in your ward express a far stronger bond to their _nursing intern_ than to their doctors.”

Dr. Garrison leaned back in his seat to survey Dr. Victoria scathingly. “So you plan on telling us we’re fired after we waste a week trying to help these little bastards?”

“No one said anything about you being fired, Dr. Garrison. Perhaps consider this an opportunity to prove your aptitude as a doctor. Surely one of your patients must be healthy enough to discharge.”

Mr. Mackey and Dr. Garrison exchanged another knowing glance. “What if our healthy patient has nowhere to go?”

“The Hills-Barnes Center has an excellent halfway house. It allows the patient to continue their care at the hospital while being reintegrated into society. I would highly recommend that in such a case.”

Mr. Mackey slumped down in his seat.

“Again, I’m very sorry to spring this on you so quickly, gentlemen, but you must have arrangements made for the patients of suite 13 by the end of the week. If you would excuse me, I have an interview with a potential eating disorder specialist.”

“I can specialize in eating disorders!” Dr. Garrison stood up dramatically, sending his chair toppling backwards. “In a few months, you will see that our patients are just incurable bastards.”

“Most of them,” Mr. Mackey added diplomatically, although he too maneuvered himself to his feet.

“Well, let’s find that out in a few months, shall we? I’ll leave you two to your deliberations.”

Dr. Garrison stomped out of the office, and Mr. Mackey managed a respectful nod before he followed Dr. Garrison into the hallway.

“That was a load of bullshit!” Dr. Garrison snapped once they were out of earshot. “What does she want us to say? All five of them belong at the Center for the Criminally Insane?”

Mr. Mackey patted his shoulder calmingly. “Let’s wait until we conduct interviews with the patients before we make that assumption.”

“Like I give a shit what happens to them now.”

He sighed. “Dr. Garrison, these boys have put their lives in our hands. The least we can do is try to undo the damage our suite has inflicted upon them.”

“Oh, not you, too! The suite is fine!”

Mr. Mackey coughed. “Dr. Garrison, suite 13 has been closed. We need to figure out what to do with these boys. They are _not_ all criminals.”

“Most of them.”

“About half.”

“The others have the potential.”

“Dr. Garrison,” Mr. Mackey snapped in the strongest voice he had used to date. “This is the end of suite 13. If you do not wish to be compliant with Dr. Victoria’s wishes, then I’ll sort this out with Wendy and Al, but I recommend you putting in a bit of effort if you wish to keep any sort of job at this hospital.”

“Here’s a solution, Mr. Mackey. Fuck suite 13. Fuck them all to death.”        


	14. Interviews

Kyle entered Dr. Garrison’s office with absolutely no trepidation. He didn’t even blink at the assembly of Dr. Garrison, Mr. Mackey, Nurse Al, and Wendy. He simply took a seat and waited for Dr. Garrison to speak.

The four staff members exchanged nervous looks. The time had come to conduct the first patient interview, and Wendy was already scribbling furiously on a clipboard, which Mr. Mackey watched with some interest over her shoulder.

“Hi,” Kyle said finally to break the silence.

Dr. Garrison coughed. “Hello, Kyle,” he responded in his best attempt at professionalism. “We need to have a very important discussion with you today.”

“I’ve gained five pounds.”

“Not about that,” Wendy assured him kindly. “We were just wondering what your plan was for when you decide to leave this hospital.”

Kyle shrugged. “Go live with my family and finish school?”

“And do you… feel prepared to do that now?” Mr. Mackey asked hesitantly.

Dr. Garrison held up a hand to silence Kyle’s response. “Kyle’s BMI is still way below our goal. He has to remain in-patient.”

Kyle blinked a few times in surprise. “Are you offering to discharge me?”

“No, that is definitely not what I’m doing,” Dr. Garrison snapped. Wendy frowned at him, and he shook it off. “If we discharged you, and you starved to death, do you know how quickly your mom would be suing me for malpractice? No, Kyle needs to stay in-patient.”

Kyle bit his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Then again, I could just go ahead and sue you for malpractice while I’m still alive.”

“Fair point.”

“That way I get to enjoy the money too.”

“Fairer point.”

Mr. Mackey sighed. “Kyle, we do believe your treatment is best continued in-patient.”

Kyle glanced among all the staff members in confusion. “Did you need to call me in just to tell me to keep doing what I’ve been doing?”

“Well, no, not exactly.”

“The members of suite 13 are being relocated,” Wendy explained calmly. “We’d like to work with you to figure out the best step for you to take next.”

A huge grin spread over Kyle’s face. “They’re shutting down this shithole? Thank fucking God.” Wendy looked hurt, and Kyle glanced down at his lap in shame. “So what are my options?”

“Well, actually, Kyle, you’re quite lucky. Suite 13 is being turned into a ward specializing in eating disorders. You have every right to stay there as a patient as do you have the rights to switch suites or hospitals,” Wendy explained calmly. Dr. Garrison and Mr. Mackey had made it abundantly clear that they were too agitated to deal with delicate patients.

“But can I leave?”

Dr. Garrison rolled his eyes. “Kyle, you are the least equipped to leave of any patient in your suite. Just fucking eat. The rest of the world is over HUMANCENTiPAD. Have you not seen the iPhone 7? Go with the flow.”

Kyle went from confused to enraged in a split second, and Wendy hurried to speak over Dr. Garrison. “You do actually have the right to request to leave, Kyle. I just don’t think we would advise that for you just yet.” She smiled at him sympathetically, and he glared back.

“Why? All I need to do is fucking eat. Dr. Garrison’s told me that. Kenny’s told me that. Even Stan said so once.”

“I believe it’s an oversimplification to say your issues only revolve around food, m’kay? Mr. Mackey said nervously. “You were bullied, m’kay? And bullying is bad, but maybe you made yourself an easy target, m’kay? Maybe you should be working on that?”

“You’re kidding.”

“He’s really not,” Dr. Garrison said in a dull voice. “You’re riddled with OCD-like tendencies, and you know how people in high school treat kids with OCD? Like the weirdos they are.”

“We just don’t want you to get hurt,” Wendy offered.

Kyle cocked his head to one side. “My mom already said I would be enrolled in Stan’s school when I start again.”

“It’s nice to sample the pool of bullies out there,” Dr. Garrison agreed with a nod.

Wendy shushed him. “Kyle, Stan is not your designated protector. I really encourage you to continue in-patient treatment until you feel confident enough to live without his support.”

Kyle tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully. “But I do have a choice?”

“You do,” Wendy admitted hesitantly.

Kyle’s lip curled up in a nasty smile. “Then it looks like I’m discharged, doesn’t it?”

Dr. Garrison looked around for support. “I just told you that you have OCD! We were just trying to tackle your problems one-by-one!”

“It seems like you wasted our precious time together.” Kyle’s grin had spread all the way across his face now. “I’m leaving. You can call my mom to pick me up today if you want.”

Mr. Mackey frowned. “Why don’t you wait and see if your mother has any thoughts on your progress, m’kay? She should see you before you get discharged.”

“You’re also only seventeen, Kyle, so you’re at that bitch’s mercy.”

“Stop calling my mom a bitch, Dr. Garrison!”

Wendy coughed into her hand something that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh.

Kyle was practically shaking with excitement even as he struggled to maintain a glare for Dr. Garrison. He was going _home_. He was going back to Stan. Nothing else really fucking mattered at that point beyond being discharged. “So when can I leave?”

Al frowned. “You sure you want to go so soon, little guy?”

“So sure.”

Dr. Garrison gestured towards the door. “Then pack your shit.”

Mr. Mackey leaned over to whisper something along the lines of “ _don’t use the s-word around Kyle_.”

“I say shit all the time, shitheads.”

“I’m sorry, Kyle, I thought you were packing.”

Kyle’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You’re really being serious? I can actually just go pack?”

“When you starve to death, don’t say you did it as a political statement,” Dr. Garrison called after him as Kyle was out of his chair in an instant. “I hate political statements.”

Kyle glanced back with his hand on the doorknob. “No, when I starve myself to death, I fully intend to make it a statement on the wonderful medical care you’ve provided during my stay here.”

“Don’t die, Kyle,” Wendy said softly.

Kyle smiled back widely. “Do you think Stan would let me?”

 

*

 

“Why are you asking me these questions?”

“Suite 13 is over, m’kay? We need to make sure you’re cared for wherever you go next.”

“So my options are moving to another hospital or being discharged?”

“Or another suite in this hospital could have some room,” Mr. Mackey suggested helpfully.

Tweek buried his head in his hands. “I’m still psychotic?”

“Were you psychotic yesterday?” Dr. Garrison asked sarcastically, and Tweek sank down in his seat.

Wendy bit her bottom lip, resisting the urge to go cradle the child. She had to be professional. At least one person in the room had to be professional. “Tweek, I’m worried you may not have been getting enough attention here.”

“I feel like I’ve gotten too much attention.”

“I’m not referring to from other patients. Your disorder is much more complex than we realized when you were admitted, and we were unable to spend enough time exploring those possibilities.” Wendy shot Dr. Garrison a dirty look to let him know it was _not_ her job to lead these conversations.

Tweek sighed. “Because I’m psychotic?”

“Stop focusing on labeling it, Tweek. Something is wrong, and I would like you to get the help you need to make it better.”

“I’d like that too.” Wendy shot Tweek a pointed look, and he nodded slightly. “So what is the name of the other hospital?”

She smiled. “It’s called the Hills-Barnes Center. They have an excellent program for patients who show signs of psychoses.”

“Do people recover there?” Tweek asked in a dull voice.

“The average patient stay is _fairly_ long, but people report high satisfaction with the hospital. We’ve referred a few schizophrenic patients there before.”

A brief look of horror passed over Tweek’s face, and Dr. Garrison stiffened.

“You’re sending me to Damien’s hospital.”

Wendy watched him pityingly. “There’s also the South Park Center for the Criminally Insane, but I don’t think you need or want that, Tweek.”

“I’m not ignorant. I know what happened to Damien.”

“Damien was in a lot of pain when he entered our care. All things considered, the influence of any patient here was negligible,” Wendy explained softly as Mr. Mackey hissed, “ _who told him about that?_ ” to a shame-faced Dr. Garrison.

Tweek tugged on his hair. “Stop trying to hide public knowledge! Say Kenny’s fucking name! Kenny, Kenny, Kenny fucked everyone here up, didn’t he?”

Al frowned. “Tweek, Kenny has a lot of difficulty connecting to other people, but he’s a very sweet little boy.” The other staff members looked like they disagreed, but no one said anything. “I know you mean the world to him.”

“Nothing means anything to him.”

“That’s just not true, you silly goose.”

“Al, please,” Dr. Garrison interrupted. “Kenny is not the source of your problems, Tweek.”

“It’s pretty annoying how often you talk about him, m’kay? It’s every session, and you’re just being boring, Tweek.”

“Maybe say “maladaptive” instead of “annoying” next time, Mr. Mackey,” Wendy suggested in a soft voice.

Tweek was getting a unique glimpse into Mr. Mackey untethered. “You don’t have to listen to him everyday, m’kay?”

“And we already have to talk to the real Kenny,” Dr. Garrison added with no small amount of irritation in his voice.

“What if Damien does something to me?” Tweek squeaked.

Mr. Mackey waved a hand like his question was completely irrelevant. “It’s a big hospital.”

“You would just send me in there with him? Jesus Christ! That’s as bad as being in Kenny’s hospital!” Al looked more hurt every time Tweek insulted Kenny, but he maintained his silence.

“Damien doesn’t know who you are, Tweek. What’s your concern?” Wendy looked genuinely curious. “You can always move to another suite at this hospital.”

“That’s probably worse!”

Now every staff member looked offended. “We’re just telling you your options.”

“What options? I obviously have to stay in-patient!”

“So where would you like to do that?” Wendy asked softly.

_Kenny can’t come back from the dead. Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny can’t come back from the dead. Kenny is not a danger to my life._ “The other hospital,” Tweek admitted in a meek voice.

Wendy looked genuinely sad, but Dr. Garrison just nodded briskly. “We’ll get you a diagnostic interview with someone from Hills-Barnes tonight.”

“When am I leaving?”

“They need to talk to you over the phone first, but we could have you there within the week.”  

“And Damien isn’t going to get me?”

“Tweek, forget about Damien!” Dr. Garrison snapped. “Mr. Mackey is right. Honestly, the only thing more annoying than you and Kenny talking about Kenny is you and Kenny talking about Damien. You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, and Kenny doesn’t either.”

“ _You_ have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I have an idea that you have no idea,” Dr. Garrison shot back immaturely, and Mr. Mackey placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get you that diagnostic, m’kay? Try not to think about Damien or Kenny tonight. Just go to that happy place we were talking about, m’kay?”

“All you did was tell me what your happy place is!”

Mr. Mackey looked puzzled. “Was it not a happy place?”

“It was _your_ happy place!”

 

*

 

“I’m, like, barely insane though.”

“Eric, this interview is merely a formality. Your court sentence stipulates that, should you leave our care, you be admitted to the South Park Center for the Criminally Insane.”

“But I’m telling you I’m barely insane?”

Mr. Mackey cleared his throat tactfully. “Eric, do you know why you’re here?”

“Yeah, I shot a black kid.”

“And you don’t believe you have any mental disorder?”

“Well, I feel like I’ve been seeing him around the hospital so maybe I’ve started hallucinating? Am I allowed to blame that on Kenny too?”

Dr. Garrison slammed his fist down on the table. “Has anyone kept any information about their sessions private?”

Mr. Mackey shook his head sadly, but Wendy looked enraged. “You shot Token?”

Cartman snorted. “Yeah, I shot Token Black. In my defense, why would his parents name him that? He was asking for it.”

“Did you know his name when you shot him?”

“No, but I laughed for like two hours when I found out. My mom was crying about the court summons. It was fucking hilarious.”

“Eric, you have severe antisocial personality disorder, m’kay?”

“Sociopath sounds more badass.”

“There is nothing badass about shooting an innocent young boy!” Wendy burst out, unable to hide her anger. “Why would you shoot him if you didn’t even know who he was?”

Cartman paused as if to think this over for awhile. “I was standing my ground?”

“Shooting Mr. Black was not your only crime, m’kay? It was the crime for which you were charged. We have assembled a short list of other criminal activities you’ve taken part in.” Mr. Mackey reached for a sheet of paper, and Cartman leaned forward eagerly to hear about his past victories. “You set your preschool teacher on fire?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t blamed for it.”

“You filed a fake police report against your mother in order to move to a foster home in Hawaii?”

“I fucked up that time. That foster home sucked.”

“You were sent to Juvie for a hate crime in elementary school.”

“That wasn’t a hate crime. I didn’t care he was black. The _second_ time was a hate crime.”

Mr. Mackey gulped. “You arranged to have a boy’s parents ground up into chili and fed it to him because he scammed you out of ten dollars.”

Cartman looked annoyed. “By the time I ground up his parents, it was like fifteen dollars.”

“Are you not at all disturbed by this?” Wendy seethed, and Cartman smiled proudly.

Dr. Garrison grabbed the list from Mr. Mackey. “You rigged the fucking election?”

“I was told I could be in a Star Wars movie.”

“You re-ignited the Civil War.”

“I didn’t get any slaves out of it. I also toilet papered a house once; wanna charge me for that?”

“Eric, if we reported these crimes to the authorities, you would be in jail for the rest of your life.”

Cartman yawned and shrugged. “I’d prefer if you didn’t do that.”

“They _should_ ,” Wendy hissed. This was possibly the first time she was the least poised of all the staff, and everyone in the room felt the tension.

“I don’t see why we can’t all agree that I’m here because I shot a black kid?”

“We’re looking at distal causes, m’kay?”

Wendy frowned at Mr. Mackey. She had taught him the difference between “distal” and “proximal” only hours before, and he already sounded like he thought he was a brilliant therapist.

“We can all agree I fucked up shooting that kid. I recognize I fucked up.”

“Yeah, but you think you fucked up because he’s alive,” Wendy muttered under her breath.

Cartman tapped his nose like Wendy was exactly right. “I tried, man. I even tried to send him to Hell afterwards, but that book was bullshit.”

Al held a finger to his lip in worry. “What did you do exactly?”

Cartman heaved a sigh. “It was a fucking waste of my time. Some goth dude showed me this cult’s book of curses for your enemies, and there was a potion to send a person to Hell. I put it in his coffee before the trial, but apparently he’s still here so I wasted a fuck ton of money I didn’t need to spend on stupid ingredients.”

Mr. Mackey looked confused. “But you… genuinely don’t understand why you’re here?”

“I’m here for you to shock my brain until I don’t shoot people anymore.” Cartman looked around for support. “Yeah?”

Dr. Garrison snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Wendy was practically trembling with rage. “I don’t think this needs further discussion. You have to go to the Center for the Criminally Insane.”

“I don’t want to go there.”

“Eric, the court was very clear, m’kay? It’s here or CCI.”

Cartman looked heartbroken. “They’ll kick my ass there! I want my mom! She won’t let you do this!”

“It’s a court sentence!” Dr. Garrison snapped.

Cartman stared at him for a second before abruptly opening his mouth and wailing “ _maaaaaam!_ ” in between obnoxious tears.

Dr. Garrison let his forehead fall on the table. “Wendy, could you please get Liane on the phone?”

Cartman stopped crying long enough to sniffle out, “Why do you know my mom by her first name?” before he returned to his childish sobs.

Wendy gave a stiff nod and stalked out of the room. She restrained herself to shooting Cartman a withering glare as she passed, but he was barely paying attention to his surroundings by that point. Dr. Garrison kept his head on the table, Al stared on the floor, and Mr. Mackey rubbed his temples as Cartman continued to sob hysterically.

“Al, can you take care of this?” Dr. Garrison muttered, not moving his head.

Al nodded and struggled to support Cartman’s weight as he led him out of the room.

 

*

 

Butters lip was quivering dangerously. “The suite is being shut down?”

Dr. Garrison nodded. He and Mr. Mackey were alone now, and the first three interviews were really the maximum they could handle in one day. Neither of them had dared bring up _which_ patient they had saved for last. They assumed the other equally dreaded talking to _him_.

“I’m afraid so, Butters.”

“B-but what about my multiple personalities? Where will they go?” Butters sniffed out with genuine worry in his eyes.

“Butters, you don’t have multiple personalities, m’kay?”

“My parents said, if I didn’t have one personality when I came home, I’d get grounded! They were real stern about it, Mr. Mackey. I can’t bring them all back with me.”

“Jesus, did no one ever explain what Dissociative Identity Disorder was to you?”

“Well… you’re my doctor, Dr. Garrison.”

Dr. Garrison deflated. Of course the staff had been aware that Butters was completely sane after his first diagnostic interview. They were also very aware that he came from an abusive household and were very willing to house him as long as his parents continued to pay for his stay.

“Where would you like to go, Butters?” Mr. Mackey asked kindly.

Butters sniffled. “I’d like to stay here an awful lot.”

Mr. Mackey exchanged a sympathetic glance with Dr. Garrison – or, to put it more accurately, Mr. Mackey glanced at Dr. Garrison sympathetically, and Dr. Garrison rolled his eyes in response.

“That’s not an option, m’kay? Do you feel safe going home?”

Butters shook his head vehemently. “They’ll be awful sore at me, Mr. Mackey! I’m not allowed home until I get better!”

“It’s very difficult to recover from a disorder you don’t have, Butters.”

The corners of Butters’ lips turned down dangerously. “I don’t want to live in denial.”

“Butters, you’re denying that you’re healthy! Do you know how fucking stupid that is?” Dr. Garrison snapped. “You are not going to be admitted to a mental hospital. Other people need that care much more than you do.”

Mr. Mackey handed Butters a box of tissues, and he blew his nose loudly. “Then it’s lucky you don’t give us any care, huh?” They both looked taken aback. “Well, I just mean, y’know, lots of poor kids out there need good treatment, and I’m awful glad I’m not hogging all the good treatment.”

Dr. Garrison grimaced. “Butters, we need to find you a home in which you will be comfortable.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to go back to your parents? Family’s very important, m’kay?”

Butters trembled at the very idea of it. “Where else can I go?”

Dr. Garrison sighed. “Hills-Barnes has a halfway house. Dr. Victoria and I have already been looking into it as a possible option for you, but they don’t have any openings for two weeks.”

Butters peered at him hopefully. “So can I stay here for two weeks?”

Dr. Garrison opened his mouth to snap back another derisive comment, but Mr. Mackey intervened. “Yes, Butters, you may. We’ll get you on the waiting list for their halfway house as soon as possible.”

Butters patted his uncomfortable wooden chair fondly. “I’m gonna miss it here an awful lot, Mr. Mackey.”

Dr. Garrison bit back a laugh. “That makes one of us.”

Butters looked up with big, sad eyes like a wounded baby cow. “I know you all hate it here. You talk about it all the time, but this is my home.”

“It’s a psychiatric hospital, Butters. A hospital at which you have spent far too much of your life.”

Butters was quiet, just running his hand back and forth against the side of the chair like he was trying to absorb every inch of the hospital he would be stripped away from in two weeks.

Mr. Mackey and Dr. Garrison were quiet for a few minutes as they let Butters take in his surroundings. Finally, Dr. Garrison couldn’t handle the impatience anymore. “Can you get the fuck out of my office, please? There are more interviews we have to conduct today, Butters. Go touch the chairs in your suite.”

He nodded meekly and scampered out of the office without another word.

Mr. Mackey stared at Dr. Garrison with a grim expression.

“We got through Eric,” Dr. Garrison muttered.

“Eric is a very different beast, m’kay?”

“Just page Wendy or Al to get them back up here.”

 

*

 

Kenny strode confidently into Dr. Garrison’s office, spreading his legs open wide as he took a seat on the other side of the desk. He examined the guarded looks on Dr. Garrison, Mr. Mackey, and Wendy’s faces before snickering slightly. “So where you gonna send me?”

“I assume the other patients told you what this interview is about.”

Kenny grinned. “Do you mean did Kyle shove me in the hallway because he was so excited to get to his room and start packing? Yeah, I know what this interview is about. I can save you some time, too. Discharge me.”

Dr. Garrison’s brow furrowed. “Kenny, you know we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, you haven’t improved in the slightest.”

“I’m sober?”

“Only since you stopped snorting Stan’s medications,” Wendy said accusingly, and Kenny shrugged.

“Still counts.”

“No, it really doesn’t.”

“Kenny, you have not improved, and you are a menace to others. We’re referring you to the South Park Center for the Criminally Insane with or without your consent.”

“I’m eighteen. You can’t do that.”

“I can if you’re a danger to others, Kenny. Do you think you’re a danger to others?”

Kenny’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I’ll be a danger to anyone if you agree to let me leave.”

“And if I don’t?”

He shrugged one shoulder disinterestedly. “Then I guess we’ll find out how big a menace to society I am.”

“Kenny, you need to go to the Center, m’kay?”

“I’m not going to CCI.”

Wendy reached towards him gently. “The name makes it sound much worse than it is. It’s just like any other hospital.”

“Except for criminals,” Kenny growled. “I am not a criminal.”

“Criminally insane,” Dr. Garrison corrected.

Kenny’s gaze focused on him like a hawk. “Do you want to see criminally insane, Garrison? You cannot send me to that fucking center. I won’t let you.”

“Kenny, you need to calm down, m’kay? It’s not going to be that bad.”

With a sudden sweep of his arm, everything came clattering from Dr. Garrison’s desk onto the floor. “You’re not sending me there.”

“Kenny,” Wendy said sternly, but he didn’t even look at her.

“If you put me in the Center for the Criminally Insane, I promise it will be the biggest mistake of your life.” Kenny’s eyes were so dark no one looking at him could guess they were usually blue. “I don’t want you to make that mistake.”

“It could help you,” Wendy offered softly.

Kenny let out a feral growl and flipped the desk over so Dr. Garrison and Mr. Mackey had to scramble backwards. Mr. Mackey fell out of his chair in his haste, and Dr. Garrison got a toe trapped under the desk, howling at the sudden pain. “I’m not going.”

“Kenny, calm down!” Wendy demanded, reaching to press the button for help as subtly as possible. Kenny reached out to grab her wrist.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. We can settle this like adults.”

“Adults don’t flip over tables, Kenny!”

“Well, I wouldn’t think most kids would be strong enough. It was a heavy desk.”

“Just get this little bastard in a straight jacket,” Dr. Garrison groaned as he attempted to wiggle his big toe painfully.

Kenny shook his head. “You really don’t want to do that.”

“You’re denying yourself help.”

“Do you think I’m going to get better, Wendy? Be fucking honest. Does anyone?”

The staff was silent.

“If I’m going to be a lost cause, I’m going to be a lost cause who lived life, okay? You’re going to discharge me.”

Mr. Mackey pushed himself to his feet. “Kenny, you have the potential to hurt people. We can’t ethically discharge you.”

Kenny stared at him cruelly. “I do have the potential to hurt people. That’s exactly why you should discharge me, Mr. Mackey.” He cocked his head to one side. “I guess we could see if I live up to that potential instead?”

“You can’t threaten us, Kenny,” Dr. Garrison snapped.

“Oh, I can.”

“Under no circumstances are you ready to be discharged.”

Kenny clapped his hands together. “Then it looks like the circumstances are going to have to be changed?”

Wendy stared at him with a look of horror before storming out the door, tears pricking up in her eyes.

“Now that she’s gone?”

Dr. Garrison glanced at Mr. Mackey. They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds in a wordless conversation, and Kenny graciously hoisted Dr. Garrison’s desk back up to its feet.

“You’re free to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments. I love almost all comments. If you're worried, I promise every character (Stan included) will show up again at least once in later chapters, though, so there's no need to comment about that.


	15. Marry, Fuck, Kill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: there is no final scene at the hospital. This picks up with the boys where they would be so Kyle is home, Tweek is at a new hospital, Cartman is at the Center for the Criminally Insane, Kenny is at his commune and Butters is staying in one of the hospital’s private suites until they think of a home for him.

Craig had a lot of hope for this hospital. The nurse greeting them wasn’t a teenager, and the whole ward was much cleaner than Tweek’s previous hospital. The entire drive had been Token, Clyde and Jimmy voicing their pointless hopes and excitement for Tweek’s recovery, and he had withstood getting his hopes up until a distinguished-looking doctor greeted them with a firm handshake and led them to Tweek’s private room. This place was professional. This hospital was _real_ , and Tweek was going to have a shot.

He had seem so beaten down his last day in suite 13. Craig had come by to help him pack, and the other patients were all tense with the possibilities of what their future held. Kyle was almost ready to go by the time Craig arrived, and a dark-haired boy who Craig could only assume was Stan had been waiting in the parking lot for him to get downstairs. One room, which still had the door shut and locked, was filled with the noise of one boy’s obnoxious wailing and another’s pitiful sniffling. He had arrived just in time to bump shoulders with Kenny in the hall as Kenny hoisted a duffle bag so large it could have held a human body over his shoulder. The glare they exchanged was something he would never forget.

Punching Eric Cartman in the face as a “message from Token Black” before leaving the suite was also something he would never forget. The pussy had just broken down and sobbed some more, and Craig couldn’t believe that obese fool was the boy who had scared Tweek so badly for weeks.

Tweek was just sitting cross-legged on his bed reading a book peacefully as the four boys entered the room. A wide smile broke out over his face at the sight of his friends, and Craig really allowed his hope to run away with him as he pulled Tweek into a bone-crushing hug. Tweek was immediately swarmed by happy greetings from Token, Clyde and Jimmy before he backed off nervously and returned to his bed, gesturing with a small nod of his head for Craig to sit next to him.

“How are you liking it here, man?” Token asked genially, ruffling Tweek’s hair like a child.

Tweek snorted and shrugged. “Well, my doctor didn’t forge his certification from Canada, and I don’t have a roommate.”

Really anything could be counted as an improvement, Craig realized.

“T-the nurses here aren’t as huh-hot,” Jimmy forced out with a knowing wink at Token, but Token just shot him a silencing glare.

Clyde nudged Token supportively. “He’s already found his nurse. I mean, unless you want to trade in for an older model?” He giggled into his fist, remembering the matronly nurses bustling down the halls as they entered.

“I’m glad we’re having this conversation during our limited time with Tweek. Great use of the opportunity, guys,” Token snapped, something suspiciously close to a blush spreading across his dark cheeks. “Really, Tweek, does the treatment feel better here?”

Tweek nodded enthusiastically. “It’s only been a few days, but…. Yeah, it’s better here. Kind of ironic, I guess.”

Token lifted an eyebrow. “What’s ironic?”

“I feel so much better and safer here after the last hospital,” Tweek grinned. “It’s weird Damien is somewhere in this building, I guess. Maybe he feels better and safer too.”

Craig stiffened and dared a glance at Clyde, who looked puzzled. “Damien?”

Tweek waved it off. “He was a patient in my old suite before me. It doesn’t really matter now does it?”

Clyde opened and shut his mouth a few times before shooting Craig a disbelieving look. Craig tried his hardest to avoid eye contact, and, by the time he looked up again, Clyde’s gaze was back on Tweek. “So what’s your favorite thing here?”

Tweek paused like this was the hardest question he’d ever been given. “I like having a private room.”

Clyde smirked knowingly. “Want me to bring in any of my magazine collection?”

“Watch your porn on the internet, Clyde. No one buys magazines anymore.” Token wrinkled his nose like the thought was distasteful.

Clyde gestured around the room widely. “Who sees Tweek’s laptop? I’ll bring you some magazines, friend.”

“I don’t think you need to do that,” Craig responded automatically while Tweek looked like he was trying to register what Clyde was offering.

“I don’t need to. I _want_ to. What’s a friend for if not to help their bros get off?”

Craig and Tweek exchanged a bashful look before immediately trying to look off in other directions before the glance was noticeable.

“It’s okay, Clyde,” Tweek said meekly. “I don’t need those.”

Clyde looked speculative. “Want me to get you weird stuff? No judgment. I caught Jimmy watching Two Girls One Cup one time, and I didn’t question it.”

“That was only b-because Cruh-Craig told me it was a luh-link to unlikely animal fruh- _fruh_ -friendships.” Jimmy balanced his weight on one of his crutches to properly flip Craig off.

Token grinned. “I’m willing to bet Craig’s jacked it to unlikely animal friendships at least twice. Your passion for those videos is really out of control, dude.”

Craig trained his expression into his best dead stare. “Have you ever watched a kitten fall asleep on a Rottweiler’s belly? The beauty of nature is highly erotic.”

The four boys burst out laughing, and Craig’s lip twitched upwards as he struggled to maintain his stare. “It was a brilliant prank on Jimmy, and _you_ could have closed the page once you realized what the video was!”

Token patted Jimmy’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Once Craig sent me a link to two Japanese girls peeing on each other, but it ended up just being Rick Astley. Stop using porn against us, okay? Some things need to be kept sacred in this world.”

“All brilliant pranks,” Craig muttered without a trace of remorse.

Clyde nudged Tweek encouragingly. “C’mon, dude. What magazines can I get you? I’m sure there’s coffee porn out there somewhere.”

“He doesn’t need porn, dude, Jesus,” Craig snapped.

Clyde narrowed his eyes at Craig, and Craig immediately regretted losing his temper. Clyde was holding a lot of valuable information over his head right now, and he really shouldn’t be pissing the kid off. “Stop denying Tweek pleasure.”

Tweek burst out laughing, and Craig struggled to keep a straight face before he was caught by the infectious laughter. The two of them doubled over, clutching at each other and laughing hysterically with no visible reason as their friends watched in confusion. After a few seconds, Token’s face lit up with understanding, and his deep, rumbling laugh joined theirs.

“Do you get it?” Clyde muttered to Jimmy. “You’re the comedian.”

Jimmy shook his head helplessly.

Tweek gasped for air. “I’m good. Thank you for the offer, Clyde. I know I always have a perverted friend in you.”

“Whatever I can do to help, man.”

Craig released his grip on Tweek, the smile not faltering from his face even as he met Clyde’s suspicious stare. Craig proudly held his gaze until Clyde subtly flipped him off and mouthed “ _we’ll talk later_ ” with a dark look on his face.

They would talk later.

Tweek was going to be so pissed off at him.

The little voice in Craig’s head that prevented him from feeling shame gave him a nudge, reminding him that Tweek was the one to bring up Damien’s name. It could hardly be considered Craig’s fault. Tweek had told him it was okay to ask Clyde for help.

Craig silently thanked the voice for always having his back before tuning back into the conversation. They had moved on from discussing porn and had switched into a game of Marry, Fuck, Kill with the patients and staff of Tweek’s old hospital.

His friends had to get their heads out of the gutter.

Token nodded in deep thought. “Okay, I’d obviously marry Wendy.”

“Oooh,” Clyde and Jimmy chorused like schoolboys, and Token rolled his eyes.

“I’d fuck Kyle and kill Butters?”

Clyde nodded like he’d given the correct answer. “Okay, Craig - Cartman, Kenny, and that bald doctor.”

Craig’s jaw dropped, and Tweek looked slightly nauseous. “I’d, ah, marry the doctor, fuck Kenny, and kill Cartman.”

“Tweek, same question.”

Tweek held his hands up protectively like he was staying out of this conversation. “You need to give me a new selection.”

“Okay. Lollipop man, Butters, and Kenny.”

Tweek winced, and Craig tried to prevent his fist curling up into a fist. “I guess I’d marry Butters, fuck Kenny, and kill Mr. Mackey?”

“You’d fuck Kenny?” Craig looked a little hurt.

Tweek shrugged with nonchalance Craig rarely saw him possess. “It was him versus Mackey, Craig. You said you’d fuck Kenny, too!”

“He’s really hot.”

Clyde nodded appreciatively. “If I were going to go gay for someone, it’d probably be him. Shame he sucked so bad, Craig. You could’ve had a good thing there.”

In the game of who could be made more uncomfortable, Craig or Tweek, Craig was sure it would always be Tweek. Apparently _someone_ had taught Tweek how to project complete apathy, and Craig just sputtered angrily a nonsensical statement about being out of Kenny’s league.

Tweek had _never_ been more stoic than Craig before.

He didn’t like the new skill.

 

*

 

Clyde was on Craig as soon as they stepped out of the hospital. Jimmy and Token kept walking automatically to the car, but Clyde rounded on Craig and blocked his path. “Who’s Damien, Craig?”

Craig feigned confusion. “It’s not an uncommon name.”

“Yes, it is.”

Token and Jimmy paused to watch the two of them curiously.

Clyde looked hurt. “You lied to me. Who is Damien? Are you even gay or was that a lie, too?”

“I’m definitely gay.”

“Did you hook up with Damien?”

Token and Jimmy backtracked to where the two boys were locked in an epic battle of Craig trying to reach the car. Clyde blocked his path like he was guarding someone in basketball. “What are you guys talking about?”

Clyde pointed a finger at Craig accusingly. “He’s a lying liar.”

“Luh-liars usually lie,” Jimmy piped up reasonably.

Token sighed. “Craig, what did you do to Clyde?”

“I didn’t do anything! I asked him to help me track down a boy I hooked up with, and now he’s flipping out at me!”

Token’s brow furrowed. “Who’d you hook up with?”

“Damien.”

“ _Lying liar!_ You and Tweek were planning something. You can’t use my stalking expertise and not tell me who I’m stalking. I thought you were opening up to me! I was so happy you trusted me enough to tell me!”

Craig scoffed. “Clyde, I _am_ gay. I _did_ tell you first. I don’t see what the problem is here.”

“Damien is not a boy you met at a party.”

“You guh-go to puh-parties?”

Clyde pointed at Jimmy for his excellent deduction. “I don’t know how you ever fooled me! Of course you don’t go to parties!”

“I go to parties,” Craig mumbled in his best impression of a hurt voice.

“Bullshit. You skipped Token’s birthday party because he invited too many people.”

“Sorry for thinking Token’s house parties are getting slightly overdone. We get it. You have a mansion.”

Token frowned. “It was my _birthday_. What are you hiding?”

Craig groaned inwardly. “Don’t let Clyde make you paranoid too!”

“No, he’s right. You don’t go to parties. You should have made up a better lie.”

Clyde smiled triumphantly. “So who is Damien?”

Craig looked at his friends helplessly. “A boy I made out with?” He tried one final time, but Token and Clyde shook their heads to show they were not buying his story in the slightest. “Guys, it’s a really unnecessarily long and boring story. Can’t we just let it die?”

“Wuh-what’s the scoop, Craig?”

Token nodded at the car. “We have time for an unnecessarily long and boring story. Unless you’re keeping secrets from us.”

“I’m always keeping secrets from you.”

“Yeah, but we caught you in the lie this time!” Clyde snapped. “You get in the car, young man, and I expect a full explanation on the drive home or we’re going to make you walk!”

“You’re not even my real dad!” Craig cried, but Token grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him to the car. “You guys can’t interrogate me.”

“No one’s interrogating you, Craig.  We don’t know enough to ask questions. You have to tell us the story, _then_ we’ll interrogate you.” Token held the door open for Craig, and Craig ducked into the car with his heart pounding in his chest.

Where was that little voice telling him it wasn’t his fault for betraying Tweek’s trust? Craig needed his little voice! He didn’t _do_ guilt. Craig Tucker made every decision without a trace of remorse.

No voice came to rescue him from his guilt as Clyde and Jimmy moved into the backseats and fastened their seatbelts, leaning forward eagerly to hear Craig’s story.

Craig sighed, his words tumbling over each other as he attempted to summarize the story as quickly as possible. “Tweek kept having those delusions where he went to Hell at the hospital, but that kid Kenny told him they were real. He used to room with another boy named Damien who also believed Kenny.”

“Believed Kenny what?” Token interjected.

“Kenny said he could come back from the dead.”

“Heresy!” Clyde cried instinctively before snapping back into the somber conversation. “Wait, what?”

“Kenny said he could come back from the dead. What part of that aren’t you getting?”

“I understand the syntax of the sentence,” Token mumbled. He was struggling to keep his eyes on the road as the boys got more engrossed in Craig’s story. “It’s just, ah, nonsense.”

“It _is_ heresy,” Clyde insisted.

Craig held up a hand. “If I’m telling this story, you guys are going to need to shut up. Understand the fucking words I’m saying. Kenny says he dies and comes back, and Tweek believed him.”

Token shook his head in disbelief, and Clyde watched Craig with wide eyes.

“Some weird shit happened between Kenny and his former roommate, Damien. Tweek asked me to see what I could find out about Damien so I… got Clyde to help me stalk him online.”

Clyde nodded proudly. “I did a great job.”

“Wuh-what did you find out, Cruh-Craig?”

Craig bit at his hand in frustration, and Token reached away from the steering wheel to swat it away from his mouth. “I found out he calls himself the Prince of Darkness and thinks he’s the son of Satan.”

Clyde audibly gasped, and Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up.

“This boy is at Tweek’s hospital now?” Token clarified calmly.

Craig nodded. “It’s all bullshit, though. Kenny’s just psychotic.”

“Is Tweek psychotic?”

Craig twisted around in his seat to give Clyde a withering glare. “You can mind your own fucking business on that one. All you need to know is that Kenny lied to him and confused him.”

The car was quiet for a second as they mulled this over. Clyde opened his mouth to speak again, but Craig made a strangled barking noise to prevent him from speaking. Clyde frowned and projected his voice over Craig’s interruption to ask, “So what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean? We’re going to do nothing. He’s in treatment, and Kenny’s gone.”

Clyde frowned. “You’re not interested in Damien?”

“I’m interested,” Jimmy agreed.

“No, I’m not interested in beating a dead, psychotic horse. We’ve gotten Tweek out of the dangerous situation. There should be no more questions.”

There was another silence that seemed to last for minutes before Clyde mumbled, “I just want to know who Damien is.”

“I gave you all the information I have!”

“So let’s get more information,” he snapped back.

Craig frowned. “I’ve done all I can. _You’ve_ done all you can. Plus, what information do we need? We know what hospital he’s at.”

Jimmy stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We need puh-patient records.”

“That hospital was shitty, but they’re not corrupt enough to just hand out patient records,” Craig hissed.

Clyde smiled triumphantly. “They don’t have to _just hand them out_.”

“Wait, now I’m not following.”

“Who do we know who has access to all of Damien’s old patient records?” Clyde prompted. “Tweek? Kenny?” He shot Token a pointed look. “Or maybe one of the staff members at the hospital?”

Token blanched. “I’m not fucking talking to Wendy about this.”

“You have to!”

“No, I don’t! Craig said so! We should just drop it.”

Craig frowned. “You didn’t want to drop it before Wendy got involved.”

Token shushed him. “I’m on your side now. Don’t fight it. You need my support.”

Clyde kicked at the back of his seat. “No, we need you to call Wendy, Token.”

Token frowned. “Fucking hell, dude! I’m driving! Plus, she didn’t give me her number so I could ask her to betray her doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“She’s not a doctor.”

He shook his head so fast Craig had a hard time believing he could still see the road. “She’d never do that. She’s going to be a great nurse, and she’s starting that now. I can’t ask to see old patient records.”

“Then just ask her about him!”

“I haven’t even called her yet! My first conversation with her is not going to be: _Hey, Wendy, can you give me all your information on your psychotic patients because my one of my friends is crazy, and all my other friends are nosy?_ ”

Craig leaned his head against the window, happy to have the attention redirected to Token’s doomed to fail before it began relationship

Clyde frowned. “You can either help us help Tweek or you can act like _Craig_ ,” he spat the name like it was a dirty word. Craig kind of liked the sound of it. If people used his name as a curse, he wouldn’t be hurt in the slightest.

Token glanced helplessly at Craig, and Craig shook his head to let him know he couldn’t expect any support from him. Token had been on Clyde’s side before the tables turned, and Craig knew how to hold a fucking grudge.

Clyde kicked the back of his seat again, and Token’s chest hit the wheel with a loud _thud_. His foot instinctively slammed on the brake, and the other three boys lurched forwards.

“Okay, I’ll fucking call Wendy! Jesus fucking Christ, stop doing that!”

 

*

 

Butters had very little to do to fill up his days. He had a week and a half before he could be checked into the halfway house, and he wasn’t exactly excited about that prospect. He attempted to maintain contact with some of the old patients, but they were all busy moving along with their lives while he wandered the halls of his former hospital sadly.

He was healthy. He always knew he was healthy. Did that mean the hospital couldn’t be his home?

His home couldn’t even be his home.

The only patient who seemed slightly pleased to receive Butters’ calls was Cartman, and Butters didn’t _hate_ Cartman. Butters didn’t hate anyone. He just usually ended up hating himself after talking to Cartman, but at least he had one friend. Dr. Garrison had been let go, and Mr. Mackey was having a difficult time adjusting to his new job as the center’s secretary.

He almost thought it was a figment of his imagination brought on from too long without social interaction when he wandered down a basement hallway and collided with Kenny. Kenny’s face showed a trace of pure alarm before it sank down into the normal calm grin he’d give Butters.

“Kenny!” Butters cried excitedly, throwing his arms around the boy. “What are you doing here? Are you a patient again?”

Kenny frowned like he didn’t think that option was something to be excited about, but he just shook his head and tried to hide the guilty look on his face. “I was just saying bye to Chef,” he explained lamely. “How are you doing, Butters?”

One look at Butters’ quivering bottom lip was enough for Kenny to sigh and wrap an arm around his shoulders, leading him to an area of the deserted hallway where they could sit in peace. “What’s wrong, dude?”

“I’m just real happy to see you.”

“Why are you still here?”

Butters twiddled his thumbs nervously. “The halfway house won’t have room for me for another week and a half so Dr. Victoria and Mr. Mackey are letting me stay here.”

“Halfway house? Butters, go home. You’re so healthy.”

Butters shook his head, willing himself not to cry. “I’d rather go to the halfway house.”

Kenny looked at him with what Butters would like to believe was real empathy in his eyes. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

“I think my parents would prefer if I stayed in-patient for awhile longer.”

An expression of anger crossed Kenny’s face. “Why would they want you to do that? You should be surrounded by family. You’re free!”

“I’d… I’d rather go to the halfway house, Kenny. I don’t really wanna go home.”

Kenny nodded understandingly. Butters parents had visited him a total of one time since he’d been checked in, but Kenny had been unlucky enough to be in the front room when they entered the front room, ranting at Butters mercilessly about his lack of improvement. “Families can suck,” he muttered, rubbing Butters’ shoulder calmingly.

“Aw, no, I love my parents a whole lot, Kenny.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then go back to them?”

“Well, they don’t want me to come back yet.”

“They want you to go to a halfway house?”

Tears pricked up in Butters’ eyes against his will. “They just don’t want me at home, Kenny.”

Kenny tightened his grip around Butters’ shoulder. “You don’t have to go to that halfway house to be around family, Butters. You deserve so much better.”

“I don’t have any better, Kenny! I’m real lucky they’re taking me at all. Mr. Mackey said they don’t think I’m a suitable candidate.”

Kenny nodded. “Right. Because you’re sane?”

Butters met his eyes and was unable to keep the tears from spilling over. “I think I am,” he said in a hushed voice like he’d never said the words aloud before. “They just… I don’t think they want me at home, Kenny. This is easier.”

Kenny shook his head. “Fuck home, and fuck that halfway house. You need a real family surrounding you.”

“I don’t have that option, Ken.”

Kenny tilted Butters head so the boy could bury his head in his neck while he cried. “Yeah, you do.”

“What option do I have?” He sniffled out painfully.

Kenny pet his hair absent-mindedly. “You know how people used to live in communes in the 60s?”

“Aw, Ken, I really don’t wanna join your orgy.”

“It’s not an orgy most of the time,” Kenny explained softly. “Come live with us.”

“That seems like a real bad idea.”

“Butters, it’s _barely_ a drug den anymore.” Kenny paused as if Butters was supposed to realize the change had been largely due to Kenny’s prolonged absence. “It’s just a bunch of people living together. There’s a couch.”

Butters raised his head off Kenny’s shoulder to look at him with those sad eyes that had melted the heart of every staff member for a year. “Honest?”

“I’ll never make you take part in an orgy unless you want to.”

Butters laughed nervously, wiping some snot off on the back of his hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nodded. “I’ll tell Mr. Mackey I found a home.”

A wide grin spread over Kenny’s face. “Butters, that’s awesome! You’ll love everyone! There’s this new chick who I’m fighting for my old room, and she kind of sucks. If you can deal with goth, she’s fine though.”

Butters wiped his nose again. “Goth kids are kind of faggy.”

“I didn’t say you had to be nice to here. I want that bitch out. I’ve had to sleep in Bebe’s bed every night. It’s not exactly a chore, but I’d like my fucking room back. Those fuckers were the ones who brought me here in the first place.” Kenny shook his head in annoyance. “I can’t believe they filled up my room.”

“They probably just needed help with rent.”

“Yeah, and now I can help! She doesn’t need to be there anymore!”

Butters patted his arm. “But now it’s her home,” he said in a soft voice, and he felt Kenny’s muscles stop tensing underneath him.

“You’re right. I’m just fucking pissed a fat goth chick got my room. That place was a _pad,_ man, and now it feels like the Slytherin common room. Except all black. She literally makes potions. I think she tried to slip me a lust potion once.”

Butters look confused. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, she’s fat, and I fucked her so… there must be some deeper reason for that, right?”

“Aw, Kenny, are you sure this isn’t an orgy house?”

“Your innocence is safe with me, Butters.”

Butters smiled and wrapped him in a tight hug. “Thank you so much, Kenny.”

Kenny combed his fingers through Butters’ hair automatically. “Hey, could I ask you a question?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you in touch with all the old patients?”

Butters straightened up to look at Kenny face-to-face. Kenny looked slightly ashamed, and Butters didn’t have a hard time guessing why. He doubted most of the patients would ever want to see or speak to Kenny again. “I’ve talked to Cartman twice, but it’s real hard to reach him at ICC. I’ve talked to Kyle, and he’s doing real good. He says Stan is making him really colorful food, and it helps a lot. His mom even lets Stan stay-.”

“ _I really don’t give a shit how Kyle and Stan are_ ,” Kenny snapped in a harsh voice that made Butters recoil in surprise. “I mean, you are what you eat, right? Kyle’s a piece of shit.”

“Kyle’s my friend.”

Kenny shook his head to clear his thoughts. “He’s irrelevant. I didn’t mean them. I meant more have you gotten into contact with Tweek?”

Butters looked at him quizzically. “I never got to know Tweek too well. He was always with you or Kyle or that handsome man who kept visiting.”

“Craig,” Kenny corrected in a dull voice.

Butters smiled. “They seemed so happy together, didn’t they?”

Kenny grimaced. “Listen, Butters, do you think you could get into contact with Tweek if you wanted to?”

“Sure, Kenny. What do you need?”

Kenny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just… Okay. Tell Tweek that if he trusts me even a little bit to meet me at the hospital at 10 pm on Tuesday. Tell him I really can help.”

“Are you sure he wants to hear that? You should let him be happy, Kenny.”

“I’m helping him be happy.” Kenny looked so defensive Butters immediately dropped the subject and nodded obediently.

“I’ll tell him.” He paused for a second then glanced at Kenny hopefully. “Wanna visit Eric with me on Friday? I don’t really want to go alone, but I think he could use a visitor.”

Kenny groaned. “Butters, you don’t need Cartman to be your only friend anymore. You have a family now.”

“ _Eric_ needs a friend, too.”

“I most definitely do not want to visit him.”

Butters looked like a baby animal without even trying so Butters pouting was a force to be reckoned with. “Please, Kenny? I don’t wanna go to CCI alone.”

Kenny sighed and nodded. “Yeah, whatever. We’ll go Friday. Ready to go home?” He stood up and extended a hand to help Butters to his feet.

Butters glanced around the empty hallway. “I… I think I want one more night here. Plus, I gotta talk to Dr. Victoria in the morning to let her know I have a place to go. Will you come pick me up tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

Kenny grinned and nodded. “I’ll get you tomorrow afternoon, Buttercup. Don’t worry about anything.”

Butters wrapped Kenny in a koala-style hug, burying his face in his chest and muttering repeated thanks as Kenny awkwardly stroked his hair and attempted to disentangle the smaller boy.

“Send Al all my love before you leave tomorrow, okay?”

Butters nodded dutifully then paused. “Why’d you come back to say bye to Chef but not Al?”

Kenny rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Scheduling errors,” he said finally. He gave Butters a kiss on the forehead. “Have a good last night.”


	16. Word Salad

To say Wendy felt rather purposeless without the hospital in her life was an understatement, but it was a welcome relaxing break (as relaxing as a break could be with college always looming on the horizon). She had time to do things for herself now like see her friends from school. She found she didn’t like most of them, but that hardly mattered. Her best friend since elementary school had moved into some druggie commune. She was still a pretty nice girl to hang out with, but Wendy really didn’t want her life to be centered around that sort of thing.

Now that she had time to get a full night’s rest, she took her sweet time getting ready. She switched hairstyles four times before deciding on keeping it the same as always. She was about to debate which identical outfit she would wear when her phone rang. It was from an unknown number, and she warily answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Wendy?” A deep, somewhat flustered voice answered from the other end. “It’s Token.”

Wendy frowned in confusion at the receiver. Token had been the friend of Tweek’s that lingered around for her phone number for a few hours. It had been mildly endearing if not slightly off-putting, but she hadn’t expected early morning calls from him. “Token?”

“Look, Wendy, I’m really sorry to do this because I didn’t ask for your number for- _Yes, Clyde, I’m asking her. Shut the fuck up._ I didn’t ask for your number to do this, but things have become kind of an emergency.”

Wendy felt her heart thumping in her chest even as her brain skeptically reminded her that she barely knew this boy. “About what?”

“Um, Tweek. – _Clyde, I’m doing it. Jesus fucking Christ_. – I need to know about a former patient of yours. His name is Damien?”

Wendy cursed herself for being inwardly glad these problems were brought kicking and screaming back into her life. She sighed like this was a huge inconvenience. “There’s nothing to be known for Tweek’s case.”

“No, Wendy, you don’t get it. There is, and we need to find out what.”

“ _Token_ ,” Wendy sighed, already feeling like a nurse again. “You guys are beating a dead horse. Let Tweek recover on his own.”

“Can’t you just let us look at some patient records? Find out for ourselves, maybe?”

“ _No_ , I can’t do that.” Not only was that highly unethical, but Wendy simply didn’t have access to that part of the building anymore. “I don’t get how Tweek convinced you all that this is so important, but I promise it isn’t.”

“Wendy, it really is. I can’t explain right now, but I promise we need this.”

“I’m not convinced.”

There was some muffled conversation on the other end, then Token’s voice returned. “I can’t tell you over the phone. Maybe we should meet up?”

Wendy snorted, and she thought she heard other voices laughing too. It was a some segue for sure. “I’m about to go to school.”

“Perfect! So are we! Come over, and we can be about to go to school together.”

The desperation was so clear in Token’s voice that Wendy’s intrigue got the better of her. “What address should I come to?”

 

*

 

“This was, again, not what I wanted,” Token rapidly assured Wendy as he opened the door to his house. Craig, Clyde, and Jimmy were all crowded in the front room, coats on and ready to go.

Wendy paused in surprise. “Where are you guys going?”

“Wendy, I really didn’t mean to bring you along for this. I’m so sorry. My friends are idiots.”

Craig grimaced and straightened his hat. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“Oh, visiting Tweek?”

Craig stared at her, and Wendy felt a weird tingle of his eyes passing straight through her. “No. We’re going to see Damien.”

Wendy looked crestfallen. “You guys really don’t need to do that!”

Craig moved past her and opened the door, gesturing towards the car. “You can get in the car and hear why we’re going, or you can tell us we’re crazy like you’re a nurse again.” He moved outside, and Wendy glanced in shock back at Clyde and Jimmy. They followed Craig out quickly, leaving Wendy behind with Token.

Token looked horrified. “Again, I _really_ did not want this to happen.”

Wendy shook her head out, trying to ignore her fucking curiosity. “No. I want to go with you guys. You can tell me why you’re acting so weirdly in the car.”

 

*

 

“Um, we’re here to see Damien?” Craig asked at the front desk meekly.

“Damien What?” The secretary snapped back. “Can I see some proof of identification?” Craig pulled out his driver’s license and slapped it on the table, and the secretary rolled her eyes. “Damien _What_ , Mr. Tucker?”

“Damien Thorne,” Wendy added in a soft voice, stepping forward.

“Ah, yes. If Mr. Tucker were meant to see Mr. Thorne, he would he realized that he is under specialized visitor control.”

“I’m sorry. Allow me,” Wendy corrected, stepping forward. She took her invalid hospital card out of her wallet and slid it across the table to the secretary. “I was a member of Mr. Thorne’s previous treatment team. I’m acquainted with his condition.”

She tried to ignore the boys casting each other shifty looks behind her as the secretary examined her card skeptically. “Alright, Ms. Testaburger, and why do these boys need to accompany you?”

Wendy looked back at them. “These were Damien’s best friends before his psychosis hit. I believed it was a good idea to bring them.”

The secretary nodded like she was convinced and walked off to find a nursing escort.

Craig gave Wendy a big hug, and Clyde high-fived her. Once Wendy started laughing with the boys, Token joined in. They barely had time to stop celebrating before a nurse appeared in pink scrubs to great them.

“Hi! Are you Damien’s visitors?”

Wendy nodded. “Wendy, and you are?”

“Deborah,” the nurse said sweetly, taking Wendy’s hand. “I must warn you… Mr. Thorne is in a bit of a mood today.”

Wendy nodded, keeping her face guarded as the others clearly gaped at the nurse. “I’m aware of Damien’s condition.”

The nurse smiled again and nodded. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. He so rarely gets visitors,” she explained as she led them down the hall. “We ask that you not close the door when you meet with patients, but feel free to spend as much time as you’d like with him. A nurse will be by to check up every hour.”

Craig gave her a stiff nod and opened the door to Damien’s room. Wendy winced to herself. Damien was there on the bed, looking much the same as Wendy had seen him when he got moved. His eyes were still wild, and he still wore black as dark as his hair every day. “Damien,” she greeted in an attempt to sound welcoming. “It’s good to see you again.”

The boy laughed. “They got an impostor Nurse Wendy? Of course they would! They think I simply dislike the staff when they don’t realize that every doctor here is a peon. So many years of medical school are nothing compared to all the wisdom of death, and they have no books to teach that! Oh, but Wendy, I wonder, how did they fashion you? And why would they choose to do so?”

“I’m the real Wendy,” she explained calmly. “These are friends of mine. Damien, meet Craig, Clyde, Token, and Jimmy.” In her peripheral vision, she could see Token was tensing up notably as he stared at Damien in horror.

“Why have you brought these new souls to me?”

“They just wanted to meet you. I thought you might like visitors?”

“They shall all meet me eventually! The worthless and the damned, you all are! Damnation will find all souls on Earth except for mine, preciously guarded in the depths of Hell like a diamond. One must be careful with souls these days. They are slippery things, and they all slip away to my father. Men walk around this planet while their souls already rot in the King of Darkness’s palm. So I wonder, which of you have kept your souls? Come, let me touch you and see for myself!” He gestured for Clyde, and Clyde made a confused face at Craig before bowing down and letting Damien touch him. As Damien focused, Wendy silently shook her head for none of the other boys to do it. “This one still retains a soul for the picking. My father awaits you, boy. Now, you,” he added with a gesture at Craig.

Craig stood firm. “Do you know Kenny McCormick?”

Damien froze. “Is this why you came, Wendy? What did you horrible people do to him? Did someone take away his gift?” He started banging his fists, and Wendy took a respectful step back. The others followed her.

“Nothing happened to Kenny. He’s fine. Craig simply wants to know more about him.”

“And who wouldn’t? Kenny is special            A prophet sent from my Father to this wretched place! Hell’s gift to the Earth, if you ask me. But, oh, the Earth did not appreciate our offering! You believe you can trap those who will own you in the afterlife. Kenny suffers as any prophet, and oh, did the prophets suffer! My Father saw to that personally! This is the Lord’s revenge. They shall crucify our child. They shall lobotomize him because society today can’t handle things which transcend their petty science! And, when they do, they will find a brain so gifted that the world misunderstood. He dies simply so you will recognize your sins, but I will find that each of you who persecuted him gets a special punishment in the afterlife!”

Wendy was so taken aback that she barely noticed Token shaking at her side. Craig, she noted, just looked confused and upset. The other boys mirrored his confusion, but Token shook with pure rage. “Do you even remember his resurrections?” He demanded.

Damien recoiled. “H-How dare you even ask that? My Father is the one who admits him through his doors. Of course I remember Kenny’s deaths! They are such tragedies, but my Father continues to offer him to you!”

“You’re full of shit,” Token spat, just as Wendy’s hand hit the button to call a nurse.

Damien, now fully enraged, continued to rant at them as they backed out of the room and let a nurse enter in a hurry. Other nurses quickly began appearing as aid, and Wendy smiled empathetically at them. “I am _so_ sorry about this.”

Wendy urged them down the hall as the nurses spilled in until they were safely back in the entrance room. Craig was glancing over his shoulder disbelievingly, and the others looked like they wanted to get as far away as fast as possible.

“What the fuck was that?” Craig spat.

“He’s full of shit,” Token agreed, sounding equally furious. “That… was not a prophet. That was a fucking _lunatic_.”

Wendy sighed and nodded her head. “I wish you wouldn’t use that word, but, you’ve seen it for yourselves now. Damien is severely schizophrenic. He… wasn’t so bad when he was in our hospital. I hope losing Kenny didn’t take that toll on him.”

“My aunt got like that when she was going,” Token hissed bitterly. “Every word he was saying was utter bullshit.”

“But… that was the boy who convinced Tweek?” Craig asked in a weak voice.

Wendy rubbed his arm sympathetically. “ _Kenny_ convinced Tweek. We all met Kenny. He hasn’t lost touch with reality like Damien has.”

“But Damien convinced Kenny,” Craig said despairingly, not looking comforted in the slightest by her words.

Token gripped his shoulder and attempted to lead him to the car. No one asked if they wanted to visit Tweek, and Wendy could have sworn she heard Craig mutter in a broken voice, “I had no idea he was that psychotic.”

 

*

 

“Aw, jeez, Kenny, I feel kind of funny.”

“You have to look authentic,” Kenny muttered as he finished applying the gel to get Butters’ hair to stick out uncontrollably in every direction. “You need to be believable.”

“I don’t feel like I can be that believable a Tweak, Kenny.”

Kenny gripped his shoulder tightly then jokingly pushed him out of the car. “That lack of faith in yourself is what’s going to make you so convincing, Butters!”

Butters mumbled angrily to himself as he stumbled inside the hospital and up to the secretary’s table. “H-Hi. I’m just clarifying an overnight checkout for my cousin, Tweek Tweak?”

“Oh, yes, Leopold. I’m afraid our family records aren’t so cumulative as to contain some proof of identification. Do you have any proof of relationship?”

Butters took a gulp and pulled out a fake i.D. with Leopold Tweak printed on it clearly. “This is all I’ve got with me, ma’am. Do you want me to give my mom a call?” He prayed for her not to call his bluff desperately, and thankfully she shook her head.

“No, Mr. Tweak, this is completely sufficient. Tweek will be discharged with his medications and directions for their admission for you to pick him up on Tuesday.”


	17. Tree Fiddy

If Craig had bothered to visit Tweek that week, he would have told Tweek that this was the stupidest idea he’d ever agreed to. Craig hadn’t though, and Tweek was out of options. He wasn’t recovering like he thought he would be, and his friends seemed to think he had some sort of horrific terminal illness now. If anything, he would go with Butters just to be around someone who wouldn’t treat him as a patient.

“The hair was a stupid idea,” Tweek informed Kenny in a dead voice as Butters pulled up in front of the hospital. Kenny just raised his eyebrows and looked grateful for Tweek’s participation in the plan. “What’s your grand plan this fucking time?”

Kenny smiled calmly. “You’ll see in a second,” he replied as he unlocked back door to the hospital and led Tweek and Butters down the steps after him.

“Aww, are you really sure I need to be here, Kenny? I can wait in the car if ya want,” Butters offered desperately, trying to comb his hair back down with his fingers.

Kenny gave him a cold stare. “You can wait in the car if _you_ want,” he said briskly, and Butters smiled at him widely before disappearing back up the stairs. Tweek gave Kenny a wary look, letting him know nothing had changed between them even in the face of Kenny’s new extra calm attitude.

Honestly, it was like he had taken a handful of Tweek’s medications.

 _Fuck_.

It was like he had taken a handful of Tweek’s medications.

This was the boy Tweek was about to trust with his life.

“You better have a plan, Kenny.”

“I have the best plan known to mankind as of yet,” Kenny replied happily. He twisted the door to the kitchens open, and Tweek hesitantly followed him inside.

“Are you going to eat me?” Tweek asked with a squeak, and Kenny gave his shoulder a gentle push.

“Luckily for you, that’s not the type of psychopath I am.”

“Bath salts,” Tweek muttered suspiciously, and Kenny cracked up.

“Your opinion of me is too high,” Kenny forced out during his chuckling. “Try not to stop fawning over me so much, Tweek. Your gratitude is making me bashful.”

“I have absolutely nothing to be grateful to you for!”

Kenny strode into the middle of the kitchen and called “Chef!” loudly. “Chef, he’s here!” Tweek stiffened as the cafeteria chef came bustling into the kitchen with an older couple behind him.

“Well, why didn’t you let us know he’d arrived!” The older man said in a deep voice. “We’ve been discussing this children for practically a fortnight now, son!”

“Oh, it’s only been a few days,” the woman that Tweek deduced as his wife reassured Tweek. “Let us see the boy.”

Kenny thrust Tweek forward, and Chef smiled at him kindly. “Don’t worry about anything, Tweek. These are my parents. They just want to examine you a little.”

“ _Examine me_?” Tweek almost shouted, feeling very much like it was his first day at the hospital.

Chef nodded calmly. “They want to see if there’s any sort of spirit in you.”

“Spirit in me? Damn it, Kenny. I knew you were dumb, but I didn’t realize you were this stupid!”

“Now, now, spirits are very real,” the man corrected him gruffly.

“We had one in the carpet just a month ago,” his wife added. “It took me forever to get it out of that thing. The broom practically snapped in half!”

“The broom was fine, woman! Don’t go exaggerating now! The broom’s only snapping because you threaten Nelly with it whenever she shows up.”

“Nelly?” Tweek asked hesitantly.

“The Loch Ness Monster, children! Nelle here always goes givin’ it money whenever it comes a’calling -.”

“I don’t always give it money.”

“She always gives it money! Damn it, woman, don’t you know how tree fiddy adds up? How do you think we afforded these flights from Scotland?”

“A lot of tree fiddies,” Kenny said helpfully, poorly stifling a laugh behind his sleeve. Tweek turned around to glance at him scornfully. If this was really Kenny’s plan, the boy was a bigger idiot than Tweek had ever given him credit for. Tweek would bite when it was Kenny’s crazy stories about dying and coming back, but believing in the occult was just stupid.

The older man grabbed Tweek by the chin and tilted his head up for him to be examined even though Tweek easily had half a foot on the man. “There’s definitely some evil spirit in this children, I can tell you that.”

Tweek glared at Kenny, who simply raised his face proudly. “Can you get it out of him?”

“Well, sure. Nelle, you go and get the ‘quipment. I’ll set this kiddo up.”

“Set me up for _what_?” Tweek screeched, hugging at his body protectively.

“Your exorcism, son. Now stand on this platform right hyah.”

Tweek hugged his arms tighter and glared.

“Right thyah, Tweek,” Kenny coaxed.

“You can trust my parents,” Chef assured him.

Tweek rolled his eyes dramatically and stepped onto the platform, trembling from head to toe. There were some banging noises in the pantry, then the woman emerged again in ceremonial garb.

“Alright, are we going to get this spirit out of the child? My, we have to book our return flights, Thomas. Don’t forget to do that.”

“We’ll deal with that later, woman! Get to exorcizing the child!”

Tweek felt his blood slowing down as Chef’s parents approached, his mother shaking two cups that sounded like they had just been filled with rice. “Wait, I don’t know if I think this is a good idea.”

“Never mind that now,” the father said. “We’ll help you, son.”

Tweek nodded reluctantly, and the man cast a stern look at his wife. “Let’s cast this spirit out of the boy!”

“Oh, spirit, come out!” The woman replied, shaking her rice cups around Tweek’s body. Tweek stood there, staring deliberately at Kenny so that he would be well aware that this was the stupidest idea a person had ever concocted.

“Oh, the spirit’s coming now!” She cried, and Tweek’s eyes snapped down to his body in horror as a sphere of golden light began glowing at the pit of his stomach. Kenny’s eyes widened, and he staggered backwards, but Chef’s parents stood firm. “Thomas, pass me the blessed object!”

“Why, I didn’t bless the object, Nelle! That was your job!”

“No, I was supposed to make the rattles.”

“What the fuck is that?” Kenny shouted, looking appropriately rattled even in his drugged out state as the golden light flew out of Tweek and started ricocheting around the room.

It passed through Kenny’s body, and he started twitching involuntarily until it flew out the other side, leaving him completely unharmed. Tweek watched in horror as the light continued to fly around the room, occasionally leaving Chef and his parents looking haggard and anxious as it brushed them while they tried to catch it in pots and pans, until it hurdled back into Tweek’s body.

“Well, no harm done from where we started from?” Kenny asked in a light voice before Tweek collapsed.

 

*

 

When Tweek finally blinked his eyes open the next morning, he could hear gentle conversation coming from behind the couch. A voice that was unmistakably Kenny’s was muttering something intensely with Butters’ and another girl’s voice interjecting every so often.

“To be fair, I think we _did_ get out his, like, inner demons. They just went back in after.”

“You tried your hardest, Kenny!”

“Why don’t you just do the ritual again with a place for the demons to go? I don’t understand,” the female voice asked curiously.

“I don’t think it was the right demon. I… I feel like I’d know it, and you guys don’t get what it felt like when it passed through you. I don’t know if that’s how he feels all the time, but that feeling fucking _sucked_.”

“On the bright side, you might have cured anxiety disorders,” a new female voice droned. “Casting out his inner demons? Why would you ever want to do that? Plus, they’re the only reason he talks to you.”

“Shut the fuck _up_ , Henrietta.”

“Plus, he doesn’t talk to Kenny even with the inner demons. Isn’t that right, Kenny?”

“Yeah, Butters. Thanks for having my back,” Kenny responded in a hollow voice.

“Just do the ritual again!” The first female voice insisted.

“Like he’ll ever agree to that.”

“Yeah, Bebe, Tweek hates Kenny!”

“ _Thank you_ , Butters. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Tweek pushed himself up on his elbows to eye the group. Kenny and Butters were sitting at a kitchenette with a girl with long, frizzy blonde hair, and an overweight goth girl shuffled around by the cabinets like the ghost of the house. “I never will,” Tweek agreed in a weak voice, and Kenny’s eyes immediately snapped up to meet his.

“Tweek, you’re awake!”

“Oh, Tweek, it’s so good to see you talking! I’m glad Kenny didn’t do any permanent damage!”

Tweek flexed his limbs nervously. “That we know of,” he muttered, and Kenny bit back a frown.

“How are you feeling? We have your morning medications.”

“Why didn’t you just take me back to my hospital where I could be safe?”

“And explain _what_ , Tweek? You were safe here! We can even get you some extra Xanax if you want,” Kenny explained desperately as he started opening Tweek’s carefully packaged medication. “You need to take this on food. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Whatever the hospital is serving,” Tweek snapped. Kenny obediently brought him the medications and a glass of water.

“Butters, toss me a Clif bar,” Kenny muttered bitterly as he sank into a seat across from Tweek’s couch. The bar hurdled through the air to Kenny, who caught it easily and tossed it back to Tweek. “Eat it.”

“Aw, is this caring Kenny? That’s sweet,” Tweek cooed as he reluctantly accepted the water and medication. The Clif bar hit him neatly on the stomach, and he frowned as he retrieved it. “Nothing is going to make up for last night.”

“Okay, you can’t deny that something _did_ happen!”

“And then it knocked me unconscious. I don’t deny that.”

“Does that make you believe in the occult more?” The goth girl asked as she approached the two of them. “It sounds like you got proof right in front of you, and Kenny had mentioned you were an unbeliever.”

“Okay, Kenny. I believe that you are always able to think of new ways to put me through Hell. I shouldn’t have doubted your ingenuity,” Tweek spat in a voice laced with sarcasm, but he did take the pills he was given. “Thank you, Butters,” he added loudly.

“Anytime, Tweek!” Butters replied. His newfound friendship with Kenny was weird to say the least, but Tweek got the weird feeling that Butters knew all about the tension between them. Whether or not that was from Kenny informing him, Tweek didn’t know, but he knew Butters was seeing a lot more than he let on as he bounced over to join them by the sofa. Bebe followed quickly after him, eager to be included.

“It kind of worked!”

“You said it yourself – it wasn’t the cure you meant it to be. I could feel it. I don’t know what the fuck you did, but you didn’t fix anything.”

“Stop being so hard on Kenny,” Bebe added in a cooing voice. “I’m Bebe, by the way. I’d heard you were adorable, but there is _nothing_ cuter than watching you all cuddly on that couch.”

“Yeah, Bebe,” Kenny responded with perfect deadpan. “Nothing cuter than boys asleep.”

She snickered wickedly, and Henrietta rolled her eyes. “And I’m Henrietta. Don’t bother introducing yourself, Tweek. We heard all about you when Kenny came in wailing last night.”

“I wasn’t wailing!”

“Yeah, Henrietta, he was just crying a little bit!”

“ _Jesus Christ, Butters, please stop trying to come to my defense_.”

Tweek choked on a sip of water and a startled laugh emerged. Kenny had barged into his house crying because Tweek got knocked unconscious? The image was too ridiculous for him to even imagine.

“You all live here together?” Tweek asked finally, not quite understanding the dynamic of the house. Henrietta looked older, but Kenny, Bebe, and Butters should have all been living with their parents. That’s what kids their age did.

Kenny nodded and grinned. “Yeah, and Red. My older brother stops through sometimes.”

“All the fucking time,” Henrietta corrected.

“A lot of the time,” Kenny said diplomatically.

Tweek frowned at the group of them. “You should all go home.”

Kenny glanced over at Bebe and laughed openly. “Nah, we prefer it here.”

“It’s a lot better than being at home,” Bebe agreed, and Butters nodded nervously. Tweek wasn’t sure when he had entered this equation, but it just made the home feel a million times weirder.

“That’s just you and a ton of girls.”

They fell silent until Henrietta spat out, “Red doesn’t use pronouns.”

“Stop acting like they’re doing it for attention!” Bebe cried back angrily.

“And its-“

“Theirs,” Bebe corrected gently.

“Their name is just Red?”

“Just Red,” a raspy female voice agreed as a girl with bright red hair chopped to her chin entered the room. “Tweek,” they said darkly, extending a hand. “Pleasure to meet the man behind the myths.”

Tweek’s surprise must have been evident on his face because they laughed meanly. “Don’t worry – it’s nothing that would lower my expectation of a friend of Kenny’s,” they said smoothly before squeezing next to Bebe in her seat.

“Your roommates here hate you too?” Tweek asked in mild disbelief.

“Aw, we love Kenny,” Bebe cooed. “Kenny’s just a little bastard half the time.” She leaned forward to pinch his check, and Kenny grinned like a doofus.

“Who do you think checked him in?” Red asked in the same second, leaving Tweek feeling no more secure in his feelings for Kenny than before.

“I checked myself in _technically_ ,” Kenny corrected as he pulled away from Bebe.

Red stared at him with a bored expression on their face. “Okay, yes, you signed the form. Who do you think found a hospital, brought Kenny to it, and explained this shit to his idiot doctors for _hours_?”

“Also me?” Kenny said hopefully, and Red snickered and pushed at him. Tweek was surprised that his connections to the outside world were basically the same as those in the hospital. Here, he was simply liked. That was the only difference.

It raised questions Tweek didn’t like to consider about how Kenny would have acted at the hospital if people had shown more warmth to him. Kenny was a dick who didn’t deserve a caring household to come home to, but he happened to have gotten one. At least he was sharing with Butters. That boy was much more deserving of a good environment.

“I’m going to leave,” Tweek said decisively, breaking the spell the house had on him. “Leopold Tweak, will you drive me back to the hospital?”

“I’ll drive you,” Kenny offered quickly, standing up.

“I was checked out by Leopold Tweak,” Tweek responded in a dull voice.

Kenny glanced around the room nervously. “Just give me a real goodbye, okay?”

“No. That’s not something I want to do,” Tweek said firmly.

He would have stood his ground. He could have stood his ground if Kenny hadn’t grasped at his wrist, immediately sending his head into spirals that opened the ground up underneath him. Tweek screamed as the Hell descended faster than even before and barely even noticed falling to the floor before there was some muffled shouting and a pill was being forced harshly down his throat while hands lifted him up to prevent choking.

Somehow, someone forced him over their shoulder and got him out to a car. When the Xanax had time to take effect, Tweek was lying in the backseat of a car driven by Leopold Tweak, complete with spiky hair.

“Butters,” he gasped.

“Aw, Tweek, are you back with it?”

“Yeah,” Tweek said distantly, wondering what he had been gone to.

“Glad to hear it! We’re almost back at your hospital! Kenny was real scared, but he thought you’d rather come together there than back at our place.”

Tweek nodded in agreement. “Yeah… Butters, why are you living with Kenny?”

Butters made a face into the rearview mirror for Tweek. “Kenny’s real nice when he’s not thinking about it too hard. Why, his good is buried deeper than anyone I’ve ever met other than Eric!”

“Oh, you like Cartman,” Tweek said in a dull voice. Obviously Butters’ opinion on Kenny would be skewed. That boy didn’t have the _capacity_ to hate people.

Butters shrugged. “He’s real misunderstood, but I don’t deny that he’s… kind of a dick. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I don’t plan on talking to him again.”

 

*

 

“Butters, I want to do this so little. You have no idea how little I want to do this. No one has ever wanted to do anything less than me right now,” Kenny insisted as Butters pulled into the South Park Center for the Criminally Insane. “I do _not_ want to go in there.”

“Too real?” Butters asked because, honestly, Kenny had to get over his fear of being taken there. “Eric will be so glad we visited!”

“Yeah, but _I_ won’t!”

“Now, Kenny, you now firsthand how lonely it is in places like this. I was so jealous of the patients getting visitors like Stan, Kyle, and you,” _at the beginning_ , his brain mentally added because his current roommates had stopped visiting Kenny pretty quickly into his hospitalization. “Eric will love it!”

Kenny grumbled something unintelligible but forced himself out of the car, stalking up to the hospital with Butters, his hands already in fists. Butters led him inside to a nurse who looked no older than Wendy and tapped her shoulder. “Excuse me, miss? We’re here as visitors of Eric Cartman.”

The nurse turned, her pretty young face lighting up at the news. “Oh, that’s so nice! He could really use some visitors! If I could just take your names, I’ll bring you to Eric?”

“Leopold Stotch and Kenny McCormick,” Butters stated as Kenny glared at the ground.

“Fantastic! I think Eric is so misunderstood. I’m glad he has some friends to come visit him,” she said sweetly as she deposited them at the door to a room with a sign with “Eric” in bubble letters still taped next to it. “If there are any issues, please call for Nurse Heidi immediately, okay?”

“There will be issues,” Kenny grumbled as Heidi sped away from them, and Butters rolled his eyes.

Cartman’s room at CCI made his old room look like a four-star hotel. Butters felt a guilty pang in his stomach, and even Kenny looked shaken until he remembered that this was _Eric Cartman_ and immediately returned to his prior state of hating him.

“Hey, Eric!” Butters greeted nervously. Cartman had been lying on his bed with his back to the door, and he hadn’t moved when he heard it open. “It’s me and Kenny.”

“Hey, guys,” Cartman greeted in an exhausted voice, shifting onto his other side to get a better look at them.

“You don’t look so good, Eric,” Butters said in a worried voice, sitting carefully at the foot of his bed. Kenny just leaned against the wall by the door in case he needed any fast escapes, Butters assumed.

“I’m not doing so good,” he agreed in a beaten down voice. “How about you, poor boy? You look like you’ve seen better days.”

Kenny scoffed. “I’m amazed you still have the energy to be a dick, Cartman.”

“C’mon. Let me hear about your misery for a few minutes,” Cartman pleaded, and, to Butters complete surprise, Kenny shifted his body position to open up to Cartman like this was a request he understood completely.

“I tried to exorcise a demon out of Tweek, and it failed, and he won’t talk to me anymore.”

“I thought he wouldn’t talk to you anymore last time?” Cartman asked in a dull voice, but his eyes were beginning to light up. “What went wrong?”

Kenny winced and pinched his brow. “We… got the wrong inner demon. Then it went back in him. And knocked him unconscious.”

Cartman roared with laughter, and Butters noticed Kenny looking begrudgingly glad to have helped the boy make such a dramatic transformation. “I could have told you that occult bullshit doesn’t work. I tried it. It’s just bullshit to get you to buy ingredients that sound like a Hogwarts potions list.”

Kenny grinned a little. “When did you try it?”

“I gave that kid a potion to send him to Hell after it was obvious I was going to get sentenced for shooting him, and it didn’t work.”

“That was a pretty lame attempt, yeah.”

Cartman frowned and mused, “Or the coffee burnt the active ingredient. _Fuck_ , why didn’t I think of that earlier?”

Kenny straightened up a little. “What did you put in his coffee?”

Cartman sighed. “Some goth kid gave me a book of spells for your enemies! I just picked the easiest one I could find!”

“This was Token’s trial?”

“Token Black,” Cartman agreed with a grin.

“And you put it in his fucking coffee?”

“Yeah, dude.”

Kenny clutched at his forehead like he was getting a horrible headache. “What book did you get this potion from, Cartman?” He asked in a tight voice.

Cartman shrugged. “Some Latin writing? I’m pretty sure it’s just Spells for Your Enemies, but that kid might’ve been translating wrong…”

“It sounds like he did, doesn’t it?” Kenny spat. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Cartman! You couldn’t kill him the first time. Why’d you have to try again?”

Cartman recoiled. “He was going to get me sent to prison.”

“Because you _shot_ him! Tell Butters if you can think of anything else about that book, but I’m waiting in the fucking car.”

Kenny stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him even though doors were to be kept open during all visits. Butters gently slipped off the bed to open the door again.

“Jesus, what crawled up his ass and died?” Cartman asked in a mildly surprised voice.

Butters glanced back at the door. Kenny had been acting really funny during that exchange, but Butters couldn’t quite figure out what connection he had made that had enraged him so much. He assumed he’d have a nice long time hearing about it on the car ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fake out


	18. Very Strange Individuals

Bebe had, without a doubt, the world’s finest fingernails. Kenny lay with his head comfortingly in her lap as she scratched his scalp like a cat, and it was fucking amazing. Everything felt fucking amazing except for the fact that everything in the whole world sucked.

That was overdramatic. Everything in the whole world was the best it had ever been, but Kenny had failed Tweek for the last time, and now he had a real shot at helping him. He had been bemoaning his fate to Bebe for the past hour, and Bebe, to her credit, had listened patiently as he ranted repetitively about his breakthrough.

“You need to shut up,” Red added as they and Butters entered the living room. Kenny couldn’t think of anything that the two could have possibly bonded over, but there it was. Some sort of friendship. Everyone else in the house seemed to find Butters adorable. “We get it. He doesn’t want your help. Stop trying to force your help on him.”

Kenny groaned and shifted over in Bebe’s lap. “It’s not that simple! This is _actually_ , actually going to help him!”

“No, it isn’t. All you know is that some kid might have used some weird potion to spike a drink that he might have drank. What’s he going to do with that knowledge besides give up?” Red cracked open a beer at 10 in the morning and joined them in the seating area. “You get it, right?”

Kenny stared at them in horror. “But this is help _ful_.”

“No, Kenny. It really is not helpful. He’s going to think he’s cursed and completely give up because medicine can’t cure magic. Your theory may not even be correct.” Kenny had no idea when Red became the voice of reason. Maybe all his friends saw it, and only Red lacked the filter to tell him the truth.

That seemed the case because Butters interjected gently, “I think they’re right, Ken. You’re just going to take away his hope, and he doesn’t want you in his life anymore. Respect that decision. You said you were going to yesterday, remember?”

“I can change my mind from yesterday!”

Red leaned forward to ruffle Kenny’s hair. “Kenny, behavior like this is why we had to check you into a hospital at all. You’re self-destructing. Stop obsessing about this. If you really care about helping and not just telling him you’re helping, talk to Henrietta. She’s the one who knows this occult bullshit.”

Kenny lifted himself up and frowned. “But I _hate_ Henrietta.”

“We all know you hate Henri,” Bebe said soothingly. “But Henrietta might be your best bet for help right now.”

Butters nodded. “I think if you care about actually finding the cure, you should talk to her.”

Kenny twisted to glare at Butters. He was basically still a guest. He had to side with Kenny on every fucking issue, and he had gotten comfortable with the other roommates too quickly for his comfort. Butters was a member of the family, and it meant he got to be as annoying as every other member _in addition to_ a feeling of social acceptance for the first time in his life. It was the perfect storm of Butters thinking his views were valid.

“I don’t think you get it. I fucking hate Henrietta,” Kenny said bitterly. “I get the idea, but that bitch is not going to help me even if I beg.”

Red’s lips twisted down in confusion. “Henrietta had sex with you, like, two days ago. She’s fine with you. Stop being a dick and ask for help.”

Bebe gave his head a gentle nudge in agreement, and Butters nodded. Kenny fucked _hated_ being surrounded by a caring community.

 

*

 

Craig Tucker could not be shaken once he had made a decision. He had made the decision that he cared about Tweek more than he did anyone else in the world, and that decision should not be getting shaken. Even if presented with new information, Craig was usually so steadfast in his decisions.

That was why he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t visited Tweek since he met Damien. It shouldn’t have changed anything.

Token pulled out a chair next to him in the library and smiled sympathetically. “You look like you’re ruminating.”

Craig shook his head. “Everything is just fucked up.”

“I know,” Token responded sadly. “That’s why you haven’t been visiting him, right?” Craig glanced at Token in surprise, and Token snorted. “You don’t really think we wouldn’t notice that you suddenly had time to hang out with us?”

Craig ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“It seems pretty simple.”

Craig glared darkly at Token, but that fucking dick had become completely desensitized to any of Craig’s looks. “Then tell me what’s wrong?”

“You think you saw Tweek’s future just because you saw a patient with a slim attachment to his condition,” Token said bluntly, and Craig withered up in defensiveness.

“That’s not it at all!”

Token stared at him knowingly. “That’s it completely, isn’t it?”

Craig thumped his face down on the table in a way he couldn’t believe he was doing in real life. “Fuck you.”

“Got it.”

“Damien was _too_ schizophrenic, Token. I just hadn’t seen it before.”

“Yeah, but I have.” Token rubbed his shoulder. “And I’ve seen it _before_ it gets that bad, and Tweek does not have that condition. You can’t give up on Tweek, dude. He’ll give up on himself.”

“Why can’t you be a supportive friend and visit him every other day?”

“He doesn’t want _me_ to visit him. He’s going to figure it out. I’d be surprised if he hadn’t already.” Token shook his head sadly. “He’s so smart, Craig. Of course he notices your absence.”

“Visiting Tweek is not my job.”

“No, I thought you said it was your duty as a friend.” Token stood up from the table and shoved his seat in. “That, or you just enjoyed it. We could never really figure out, but I guess we all know now.”

“Fuck _off_.”

“I am. I just wanted you to know that _you_ made the choice to get involved in this with total knowledge of what was going on, and you don’t have the right to just pull away now. You surrendered that ability when you kissed him.”

Craig was reeling. “How do you know about that?”

Token looked disappointed. “I _have_ visited Tweek since you stopped, Craig.”

 

*

 

Token knocked firmly at the Testaburger family door until Wendy hastily opened it and shushed him. “If you don’t have a headache when you wake up, you aren’t doing school right. What’s going on Token?” She stepped back to invite him in, and he entered in mild surprise. He hadn’t expected Wendy to greet him with any warmth whatsoever.

“I just came to apologize. We dragged you into a stupid and unnecessary mission, and I know you probably think I’m crazy or an idiot.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

“No?”

Wendy worried her bottom lip. “No, the magic was nice. I… liked when I believed in it. I understand why you guys bought into it, too.”

“I liked believing in it too,” Token admitted with a sigh.

Wendy touched his arm gently. “It’s time to give up on Tweek and Kenny, though. I don’t mean Tweek himself, but this idea that Kenny holds any key that can help him. Doctors can help him.”

“I think people have already started giving up on him,” Token muttered darkly, and Wendy looked like her heart broke.

“Tweek’s not responsible for anything Damien does.”

“Tell Craig that.”

Wendy’s jaw almost dropped. “ _Craig_ is the one who’s giving up on him?” She repeated his name like it was a foreign language. “He can’t… do that,” she finished lamely.

“Yes, we’re all very aware he can’t do that,” Token snapped before immediately regretting the anger. “I mean – this whole thing is really crushing Craig. He took it too hard.”

Wendy stared at Token beseechingly like she meant to aim the message to Craig through him. “Tweek was _always_ his best after Craig’s visits.”

“I would’ve assumed so. I’ve visited him twice, but I think he knows it isn’t the same.”

Wendy frowned down at her hands. She was playing with her fingers madly, and Token wondered with some worry what thought had gotten her so anxious. “Have you tried asking Kenny to visit him?” She asked eventually. “Or Kyle!”

Token’s eyes narrowed unconsciously. “Kyle sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll get his new number, but, Token, you should really consider it. Tweek needs support right now, and I thought Craig was perfect, but Kenny… won’t give up on him. He’ll do a million other things, but he won’t give up.”

“Unbelievable,” Token said simply.

“I’m sorry! I know it sounds like I’m desperate or settling on Tweek’s behalf or something, but he needs a friend he really loves and trusts to help him right now! If Craig’s not going to be that friend, he _has_ another option.”

“Now you’re really making it sound like you’re settling on Tweek’s behalf.”

Wendy tugged on her jacket self-consciously. “I’ll get Kyle’s number, then.”

Token nodded briskly. “That sounds like that’ll be helpful.”

 

*

 

Tweek hated group activities. They were the stupidest part of this hospital, an institution set up to make sure each patient got enough social interaction. He hated this one especially because a nurse had just led in a pale boy dressed in all black whose eyes, from the second they locked on the gathering, burnt with fury, and he was giving Tweek especially bad vibes. He lingered towards the side for the entire art project, and a British boy happily informed Tweek that he was _just misunderstood_.

Towards the end, curiosity overtook him, and he stepped away from the bench to approach where he lingered against the wall. He already had a cigarette in between his lips and was looking for an exit, and Tweek paused as a nurse held the door open for him to leave to some smokers’ courtyard.

Tweek rushed up to the nurse with his hands in his coat pockets. “Can I go out for a smoke?” He stuttered out, and the nurse smiled obligingly and unlocked the door for Tweek.

The courtyard was not very nice. There were a few metal benches, all next to cigarette butt containers, and one sad tree that grew up in the most polluted environment imaginable. Damien sat on one of the benches, staring at his cigarette with intense concentration. A butt was already smashed out next to him.

His ears pricked at the sound of the door opening, and he stared at Tweek mistrustfully. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tweek. Are… are you Damien?”

The boy glared at him and nodded. He seemed to like the idea of his reputation preceding him. “One and the same. Did you come out here for a cigarette?”

He motioned with his pack for Tweek to join him, and Tweek walked down the metal staircase in shock at how hospitable this boy was. Token had made it very clear in his visit that Tweek should avoid interacting with Damien at all costs. That was probably the only thing that gave Tweek the bravery to seek him out.

Tweek coughed awkwardly but accepted the cigarette, his hand jittering more than usual as soon as the nicotine hit his bloodstream.

“You don’t smoke,” the boy observed.

Tweek shook his head.

“Why did you follow me out here?”

Tweek’s hand was shaking too much to take a drag from the cigarette, but he forced himself to get that damn thing in his mouth before it went out. “I, uh, see Hell. People told me I should talk to you.”

Damien laughed loudly and took a long drag. “I don’t imagine anyone at this hospital telling you to talk to me.” _Fuck, he sounded exactly like Kenny_. “There is barely a person here who accepts my rightful title. Tell me – who told you to speak to me? I must remember that not all these worthless peons will rot forever in my Father’s rule. And you say that you’ve been there? Did you admire the majesty of his palace! The flames of Hell make a cigarette look like nothing, no? And the suffering!”

“It kind of just seemed like a wasteland.”

“How dare you? You have not lived in Hell. You have merely been there and were not worthy of its beauty. Anyone who has seen what I have seen would already be bowing before its might-.”

“No, it’s just kind of firey and shitty,” Tweek interrupted because, hey, this kid had liked Kenny. Tweek might as well let out that side of himself that Kenny knew better than anyone.

“You have not been there! I know you would never understand. No one can understand.”

“I thought you knew a boy who went there,” Tweek blurted out. Jesus, was this the Id? Was Kenny his id, personified? His psychiatrist was seeming a lot less outdated and idiotic now. Or he had been analyzed too much, and Tweek couldn’t do anything but analyze himself constantly now. “He died and came back.”

The fire in the boy’s eyes sprang to life at the reference of Kenny. “Yes, I did! The servant of my Father! He was holy. He will do greatness upon this Earth at the side of the Prince of Darkness.”

Tweek paled. This boy didn’t sound exactly like Kenny anymore, and it made Tweek too nervous to keep up his bravado. He inwardly thanked this hospital for not tapering his anti-anxieties down too quickly. This conversation was making him twitch. “Who was he?”

“Kenny McCormick,” Damien said with a smile. “Such a humble boy, but so special. The most in the world, in fact.”

“Yeah, it seems that way, doesn’t it?” Tweek couldn’t resist spitting bitterly.

Damien stared at Tweek with a smile. “You knew him. He sent you to me! Are you his messenger? Oh, tell me that dreadful place hasn’t ruined my dark angel!”

Tweek sneered slightly at the name “dark angel”. He could not see Kenny responding to that, and if Kenny had, he was a lot weirder than Tweek had given him credit for. In his defense, Kenny did never cease to amaze. “No, I’d say he’s doing better than either of us. They discharged him.”

Damien’s smile grew wider than Tweek could believe. “He’s free? I must alert my Father! He is free now to do Our bidding unto the Earth! I need to get out of this wretched place immediately and find him. I will summon him, too.” Damien put out his cigarette. “Come. This is too important to waste time with frivolities.”

Tweek didn’t like smoking enough to mention that Damien had _finished_ , and Tweek hadn’t, so he put out his cigarette and followed Damien back inside with wide eyes. He had gotten himself into something that he didn’t know how to finish.

And he still didn’t believe there was anything majestic about Hell.

 

*

 

“Why should I help you?” Henrietta asked sweetly, tapping her dark nail against her bookshelf.

Kenny almost bit his hand in annoyance. This girl did not let up. “C’mon, Henri. We both know why you should help. It’s not that hard.”

“It’s pretty hard to track down an ancient text knowing only that it has evil spells that send people to Hell. Magic isn’t that creative, Kenny. _Most_ books contain that spell in some form.”

“It’s a potion.”

“Okay, that narrows it down to _half_ the books.”

Kenny pinched the bridge of his nose. “What about stuff relating to people coming back from the dead?”

“Oh, are you talking about _that_ shit again? Have you tried the Bible, Kenny?”

“I’m not making a joke!”

“Red warned me that this was why they institutionalized you. She thought I’d get too excited by the idea of dark magic. I’m not that excited about your fucked up brain, though. Kindly leave me alone.”

Kenny slammed a hand into her bookshelf, sending the shelf wobbling and a crystal orb dropping to the floor. Henrietta retrieved it immediately with a betrayed look and stuck it back on the shelf. “Don’t touch my shit again.”

“Help me!”

Henrietta’s face softened. “What happens when you die and come back?”

“I die like anyone else. I go to Hell – it’s real, by the way, you were right about that one. I wake up the next morning in my bed.”

“How does it know where your bed is?” Henrietta asked suspiciously.

“That’s definitely a good first question to start with.”

“It’s a _realistic_ question.”

Kenny tugged on the zipper of his hoodie. “I don’t know, but this is always on me when I wake up. It doesn’t matter how I died.”

Henrietta tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “Does this happen to any of your siblings?”

“Are you asking me if this is genetic? We don’t exactly go advertising that we die and come back, if others do.”

“I’m trying to gauge if it’s a curse on your _family_ , Kenny. It helps to know the culture we’re working with. Some magic really likes to target groups as a whole. It relates to the collectivism of-.”

“I care so little. Let’s assume this is just happening to me?”

“Sure. We can ask Kevin when he’s here _tonight_ , anyway,” Henrietta spat. “So you, alone, die and come back, but this boy was given something to send him to Hell, and it allows him to remember your resurrections?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh, that’s a horrible plot, Kenny. I thought you could do better than this.”

“That’s because I’m not making it up!”

Henrietta looked unconvinced and unimpressed, but she moved to her bookshelf and started scanning the shelves until she came across a book with ancient script on the cover. Kenny raised his eyebrows hopefully, and she tossed the book to him. “You can start with this. I can’t guarantee that any curses come with antidotes. That’s rarely the purpose.”

Kenny stared at the heavy book like it held all the answers in the world.  “What is this?”

“It was written by worshippers of a demon god, Cthulu. They were vengeful pricks, to put it mildly.”

“Is it all in Latin?”

Henrietta smiled nastily and gestured towards the door. “Isn’t it so lucky Wiktionary exists?”

 

*

 

Kenny’s newfound fervor for Cartman’s words were off-putting, and everyone in the house was beginning to notice how manic he was getting as he poured over the old books Henrietta set in front of him. Butters noticed him taking more Xanax than he’d ever seen him taking before, but Kenny’s manic energy burnt through every milligram of it.

Besides a few obligatory jokes about Kenny constantly mumbling Latin to himself, the housemates seemed to have decided to ignore him for the most part. He was never in the mood to be interrupted, and none of them were ever in the mood to interrupt him.

Days later, as Kevin stretched out on the couch for the night, he added a sleepy, “Whatever you’re brewing in there better get us high, little brother.”

“I already have that stuff pre-brewed,” Kenny answered with a guarded expression on his face. “You’re welcome to it if it’ll keep you from prying in my business.”

“Whatcha brewing, Kenny?” Butters asked eagerly. “Did you find the book?”

“Shh, he’ll give us free drugs if we don’t pry,” Kevin reprimanded him.

“Why didn’t you tell us you found something?” Bebe demanded, ignoring the imploring look sent her way by Kevin.

“I told Henrietta.”

“Is she your best friend now?” Bebe looked hurt. “You should tell me when you find this stuff!”

“And me!”

“And tell Butters, yeah!”

“I don’t even know if this is worth anything,” Kenny snarled. “I might just be wasting my money. Excuse me for keeping that to my-fucking-self.”

“How are ya even gonna get him to drink something you made, Kenny?”

Kenny glared at Butters. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, _Leopold Tweak_.”

“He already said he didn’t know if he was doing anything worthwhile. I think we should back off,” Kevin added desperately.

“Nah, fuck you. I’m not giving you anything now.”

Kenny hadn’t been nice to his brother since the house sat him down to ask if he died and came back, and he laughed in their faces and asked for some of the acid. Butters didn’t know how much of Kenny’s story he was buying into, but he was definitely giving him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone in the house was, honestly, and it was pretty sweet to see. Kenny was really becoming the Hogwarts student he always mocked Henrietta for being, and people were mostly leaving him alone. Mostly.

“You didn’t even tell us when you found the book,” Bebe said sadly.

Kenny sighed and flopped into her lap. “That’s because I have no idea if it’s the book! I found _a_ book, and I’m investing all my hope in it.”

Bebe shrugged. “Now we can invest our hope, too!”

“That was exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“Did it… talk about what happens to you?” Butters asked carefully. That must have been how Kenny was deciding on a book.

Kenny gave nothing but a lengthy silence. Finally, he muttered, “Not really. Some women in a chatroom mentioned constantly giving birth overnight to a child who always disappeared in their current child’s bed, and that was fucking good enough for me. No one else in any of the mainstream cults said anything about constant resurrection. Isn’t that fucking dumb? Any cult I made would feature that!”

“Of course any cult _you_ made would feature that,” Bebe giggled as she ran her fingers threw his hair.

“Did you try asking mom if she mysteriously gives birth overnight?” Kevin snorted loudly, and Kenny twisted his neck uncomfortably to glare at him.

“No, Kevin. I hadn’t tried that.”

“I have to know how she’d react.”

“God dammit, Kevin. Go sniff paint.” Kenny rolled back into Bebe’s lap and hid his face. Gee, all his friends were _really_ comfortable with one another. Butters had worried this was an orgy house, but it was just… weirdos. He didn’t know how else to put it. It was a bunch of other people who preferred to work and pay rent rather than live at home, and Butters would guess that Kenny slept or had slept with all of them (his brother excluded). He didn’t think Kenny’s brother was sleeping with all of them; the others didn’t seem to like him, but Red was also weirdly possessive with Bebe.

Especially weirdly because Bebe wasn’t possessive with _anyone_.

As confusing as his living situation was, Butters was awfully happy with the way it had turned out. He liked the community of his housemates even if he thought that they were really all very strange individuals.


	19. Visiting Hours

“Hey, dude, how are you holding up?”

“It’s really great to see you again, Tweek.”

Tweek stared at Stan and Kyle with an unamused glare. They had shown up with a nurse at his room without warning and expected some kind of warm welcome for visiting Tweek from their spots of freedom. Tweek didn’t really need or want any more reminders of his previous hospital following him into the Hills-Barnes Center. “Who told you to come here?”

They exchanged a sad glance. “Wendy called me,” Kyle admitted. “She thought you were getting lonely here.”

“This place offers much better social interaction than _that_ hospital ever did,” Tweek responded promptly. By that, of course, he meant the social interaction was simply benign. He didn’t have any strong feelings towards any of the patients (excluding Damien, who was just the residuals of the obsession left behind in Kenny’s absence). It was, in all honesty, pretty fucking boring, but Wendy could do better than calling in Kyle.

“It seems really nice,” Stan agreed. “You guys don’t even have roommates. I should’ve gone here.”

“It’s more expensive.”

Stan shrugged. “At least the money isn’t going to Dr. Garrison?”

Tweek made a weak attempt at a smile that was mostly teeth. He shouldn’t have been so angry at Stan and Kyle, but he fucking was. He didn’t need their relationship being rubbed in his face. He didn’t have to know that, outside the hospital, Kyle _had_ the capability to gain weight like any normal child. He really didn’t need to know that Wendy was concerned for his isolation because that could really only mean one person was behind it.

That meant Token had known that Craig had stopped visiting and probably knew the reason why.

Kyle sat down on the bed next to Tweek, and Stan pulled up a small chair from a desk in a corner. In a second, Kyle had Tweek in what he, at first, thought was a noogie, but it turned out Kyle was just going to play with his hair comfortingly.

Ah, fuck. Now they were trying to make him feel better the way they always made each _other_ feel better, and it was just going to be weird for Tweek. Plus, it made him question what in his relationships with Craig and Kenny would cause him to assume that a friend grabbing another friend’s head would inevitably end in a noogie.

Stan and Kyle just took care of each other.

“You’ve gotta be doing better off than Butters,” Kyle said in a soft voice. “I heard he moved in with Kenny.”

“He did,” Tweek grunted.

Stan and Kyle exchanged a glance and laughed loudly. “No fucking way – he did?”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen them both. Kenny made Butters dress up like a member of my family to check me out.”

“Of course Butters would do that,” Stan mumbled. “You didn’t follow them, did you?”

“No, I did. Alive to tell the tale.”

Kyle’s nails got a little scratchier in Tweek’s hair. “Don’t follow Kenny out of here again, okay? Wendy never mentioned you had done that when she called.”

“I hadn’t told Wendy yet. Wait, I meant that I have no intention of telling Wendy ever. Or anyone else, really. It was exceptionally unimportant.” Well, something had happened, but it was just a useless waste of hope at the end of the day. As everything seemed to turn out to be.

“What’d you do?” Stan asked curiously.

“He tried to get the cafeteria chef’s parents to give me an exorcism.”

“No way! Chef’s parents were in town, and I didn’t know? Did they have new Loch Ness Monster stories? Of course Kenny would seek them out – they’re fucking hilarious.”

“Stan! Fuck, Tweek, are you okay?”

“As I said, alive to tell the tale.”

Kyle glared at Stan warningly. “What happened when they tried?”

“Something came out and went back in,” Tweek explained simply. Kyle’s eyebrows shot up, and Stan choked on his laughter.

“Wh-what?”

“Something came out. And went back in,” he repeated.

Stan glanced at Kyle as if asking permission to speak to Tweek. “That kind of sounds like something worked?”

“Stan, what?”

“Dude, I’m not defending Kenny. I’m just saying… if something came out, it sounds like something he did worked.”

“You sound like him when you defend him.”

Stan turned his attention to Tweek, fully ignoring Kyle now. “Kenny’s not all bad, dude. It comes out that way _most of the time_ , but I was his friend for a few months before he ever did anything. He might just actually want to help.”

“Yeah, but Tweek doesn’t need _Kenny’s_ help.”

“I’m not saying he does! I’m just saying… it might be working.”

“Does it look like it did?”

“Calm down, Kyle! I just think Kenny might honestly want to help Tweek. What’s the harm in letting him try?”

“It knocked me unconscious when it went back in,” Tweek interjected quickly. Kenny was not worth Stan and Kyle having a fight.

Was it good to know that Kenny had done something as Stan’s friend that made Stan feel like he was worthy of trust? Very. Unfortunately, Kenny actually _wasn’t_ worthy of trust. Kyle knew him better than Stan or Tweek could.

A little voice that might have been Kenny’s asked if maybe Kyle knew him _less_ than Tweek and Stan did.

“See? I knew he was useless.”

“He’s just not use _ful_.”

That little voice prodded at Tweek, asking him if he knew who cared about semantics? Stan and Kyle. Tweek shook his head out like it would make Kenny’s voice disappear.

“You okay, Tweek?”

Tweek rubbed his head uncertainly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I told you, Stan. Kenny’s not going to do any good for you, Tweek. Please try to remember that.”

“ _I am_ ,” Tweek exclaimed mournfully, and Kyle scratched his hair with renewed vigor. “It doesn’t help when he shows up here after putting in enough effort to make Butters a fake I.D. and is so sure his stupid plan will work!”

Stan smiled at Tweek understandingly. “He has a way of convincing people, doesn’t he?”

“You two are unbelievable,” Kyle hissed with a shake of his head.

“Just because you can see through all Kenny’s flaws with a blink doesn’t mean everyone else can, Kyle. Tweek, you’re not stupid for trusting him. He’d never leave you alone until you gave it a try.”

“Yes, he would! If you didn’t respond to him, this would all be fine, Tweek!”

“You don’t know Kenny.”

“No, _you_ don’t know Kenny. He’ll give up as soon as he realizes he’s not getting all the attention he wants.”

Stan rubbed his jaw in worry. “Kyle, I think Kenny might be the most loyal person I’ve ever met.”

“Are you kidding?”

“I’m just saying… giving up on people isn’t really his strongest point.”

“He seems to lack a strongest point,” Kyle snorted bitterly.

Stan shrugged. “I was just giving Tweek another perspective of what he’s dealing with. If Kenny wants to help you, you need to put your foot down or accept that Kenny will keep kicking a dead horse until his boot can go straight through its body.”

“I won’t talk to him if he shows up again,” Tweek said obediently.

“Good. Really don’t,” Kyle added warningly.

“It’s up to you, Tweek,” Stan corrected him vaguely. “And him. It might be more up to him than it is up to you.”

 

*

 

No one made the mistake of calling Craig Tucker the most loyal person they’ve ever met. No one other than Tweek, that is. As Craig slouched in the chair that Stan had occupied a few hours earlier, Tweek mentally kicked himself for the amount of trust he’d put into this apathetic bastard.

“Sorry I haven’t been visiting lately,” Craig began lamely.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, no. I have worried about it. I just... I’m really sorry I haven’t been visiting.”

Tweek shrugged. “I get it. It’s fine. Token explained what happened.”

Craig looked up with eyes flashing dangerously. “What did Token say happened?”

Tweek stared down at his toes, curling them in and out. “He told me that you guys went to visit Damien, and it got you shaken up. He didn’t say anything other than that, but I’ve met Damien. I get it.”

“You should stay away from Damien,” Craig responded automatically in the same concerned voice Token had used. Tweek laughed openly.

“You guys are always so protective over me. I don’t know how your mind rationalizes that and having given up, but you have to choose whether or not you give a shit.”

“Tweek,” Craig said in a somewhat strangled voice. Tweek knew he was being too flippant with this visit, but Craig was the one who had avoided him. Tweek had no ability to avoid people. “I didn’t want you to think I’ve given up on you.”

“But you have?”

Craig breathed out deeply. “I can handle you getting as weird as you want, Tweek. I can’t handle you just… leaving this world for Hell. I’m afraid you’re going to leave.”

“You’re afraid I’m going to check out. There’s a difference.”

There was a polite knock at Tweek’s door, and Tweek craned his neck to see the nurse with her new arrival. “It seems you’re very popular today, Tweek! Another one of your friends is here to visit you.”

“Not this dude,” Craig groaned as Kenny stepped into the room. His reaction to Craig’s presence was almost comedic – his eyebrows shot up, and he jerked back out of the room like he’d been shocked.

“I thought you weren’t visiting.”

“I thought _you_ weren’t visiting.”

Kenny and Craig sized each other up for a second, then Kenny laughed loudly and thanked the nurse. He watched appreciatively as she disappeared down the hall before stepping into the room and dropping down next to Tweek on the bed. “What’s up, Tweeker?”

Craig sneered. “That’s a gross nickname.”

“Oh, really? I thought my parents were being affectionate when they used it on me… Sorry, Tweeker.”

Tweek snorted, and Craig looked slightly betrayed by his laughter. The voice in Tweek’s head complaining about his situation disappeared as soon as Kenny appeared like it had been waiting for its owner to come back to it.

Maybe Stan was right, and Kenny was really trying to help. His presence didn’t feel nearly as suffocating as Craig’s.

No one could really let him down as much as Craig had.

Kenny glanced out the door carefully then pulled a tinted bottle of water from his bag and handed it to Tweek. “Man, we are so lucky that they don’t search visitors. Drink this.”

“ _Don’t_ drink that, Tweek.”

“What is it?” He asked suspiciously as he weighed the bottle in his hand. It felt denser than water. He really hoped Kenny didn’t think that he wanted drugs snuck into his hospital for him.

Kenny motioned anxiously for Tweek to drink. “This shit isn’t even allowed, Tweek. Drink it now. Get rid of the evidence and all that good stuff, yeah?”

Tweek deliberately put the bottle to the side. “What is that?”

“It’ll make you better.”

“I was led to believe an exorcism would make me better. Is this an exorcism, Kenny?”

“Yeah, exorcism-on-the-go. The cool new beverage for people who can’t fly in Scottish parents to perform all their exorcisms.”

“ _What the fuck?_ ”

“Shut up, Craig,” Kenny responded seamlessly. “It’s an inside joke from your absence.”

“Tell me what you’re giving him.”

“I’ll fight for myself, Craig!” Tweek snapped. “Tell me what you’re giving me.”

“Would you believe me if I said Cartman accidentally poisoned you, and this may or may not undo the damage he did?”

“No less than I believed you could exorcise me,” Tweek muttered, and Craig shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re insane. You’re both insane.”

“Yeah, Craig! I fucking am! Get used to it or get out because at least Kenny is used to it!”

Craig stared at Kenny blankly. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

“Okay. And I’m going to drink what’s in this fucking bottle,” Tweek said standoffishly, and Craig nodded his head meekly. “This… is _not_ going to poison me when you end up being wrong, right, Kenny?”

Kenny held up crossed fingers, but with nothing but anger at having disappointed Craig propelling him, Tweek forced himself to pull the cap off and gulp down the whole bottle. Kenny leaned forward in anticipation as Tweek’s Adam’s apple bobbed with every gulp, and Craig hid his hands in between splayed fingers like Tweek was a car wreck he couldn’t look away from.

Tweek stopped drinking with a gasp and stared at Kenny. “So what’s supposed to happen?”

“Do you feel any different?”

Tweek shook his head, and Craig rolled his eyes. “Okay, Kenny, at least you didn’t kill him. Tweek, can we get you to a nurse to see what he gave you?”

Kenny dug around in his bag again and produced a razorblade. Craig’s eyes widened substantially.

“That didn’t mean I wanted you to try! Kenny, put that fucking down!”

Kenny glanced down at the razor then smiled up at Tweek teasingly. “Remember this?”

_Kenny can’t come back from the dead. Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny can’t come back from the dead. Kenny is not a danger to my life. Kenny can’t come back from the fucking dead._

Tweek’s mouth parted in wonder as he caught Kenny’s grin and watched the other boy neatly slice open his own throat.

His mouth fell open in a wordless scream as Kenny’s body dropped into a rapidly growing pool of his own blood, and strong arms Tweek didn’t recognize wrapped around him protectively, turning his head away from the scene.


	20. Happy Thanksgiving, Eric Cartman

“Fuck, Kenny, why are you in my bed? I thought I remembered all of last night.”

“This is _my_ bed. At least the curse thinks so!”

“Oh, are you on that again? Be as insane as you want, but stop sleep-walking into my bed when you do.”

“ _My_ bed,” Kenny corrected before rolling out of the bed and landing unsteadily on his feet. Sure enough, his reincarnated body was there complete with orange hoodie and that new body scent that made him sure he didn’t need to shower for at least two days. He was practically trembling with anticipation as he stumbled into the bathroom, tipped a few white bars onto his hand, and swallowed them quickly with water he lapped out of the faucet.

He was just vain enough to stop and muss for his hair for a second in the mirror before grabbing a granola bar and getting out of the house before, thankfully, all his roommates woke up. He was still shaking as he started driving, but half an hour into listening to constant Bruce Springsteen, the shaking and nerves began to subside. Kenny was able to nibble at the granola bar a decent amount.

He pulled into the Hills-Barnes Center with a nervous pounding in his stomach. Confidently, he slid up to the nurse’s desk and flashed her a wide smile. “Hi, I’m here to check on Tweek Tweak. I’m Craig Tucker.”

The nurse glanced up and smiled widely. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tucker. I’m sorry for all the messiness that happened yesterday.”

Kenny nodded understandingly, thankful that he had trusted his intuition and given a fake name. “How is he doing today?”

“So much better!” The nurse cried happily. “The episode is just a distant memory.” She led him to Tweek’s door and gave a few brisk knocks before nodding at Craig respectfully and walking off to perform rounds. Kenny thanked Craig for doing whatever he’d done to win _so much_ respect from the staff. He wasn’t happy that Craig had done it, but at least it made Kenny’s job earlier.

He was almost caught in a hug from Tweek before Tweek stumbled backwards angrily. “You’re not Craig.”

“Clearly.”

“I told you not to come back here.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, Kenny! I fucking did!”

“What did you say?”

“I told you to stop trying to help me!”

“Why? What happened?”

Tweek scrunched his face up unpleasantly. “You gave me some drink that made me dissociate, shrugged, and was like “well that didn’t work!” in your dumb Kenny voice!” Kenny had to hide a laugh at Tweek’s impression of him.

Kenny sat down on the bed and motioned for Tweek to join him, but Tweek crossed his arms and glared down at Kenny. “So I just left?”

“Yeah, how high were you?”

Kenny grinned and shook his head. He felt like his chest was about to explode with pride and some other unnamed emotion. “I didn’t leave.”

“Kenny, I was there. You walked out with that stupid smirk you always have.”

Kenny reached around in his bag and produced the razor once again. “Look familiar?”

“Jesus, Kenny, put that away!”

“So it doesn’t?” He asked victoriously.

“All you did was bring a weapon into my room against hospital rules!”

Kenny stood up and planted a light kiss on Tweek’s forehead. He was practically shaking with excitement. “I killed myself yesterday. With this. Congratulations, you were the heroin addict who lucked out with clean needles.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re fine, Tweek. Your memory resets.” A smile a mile wide had appeared on Kenny’s face.

Tweek stared at Kenny. “My memory resets?”

“After I die. Your memory resets.”

“You think you died here yesterday?” Tweek asked, looking like he was suddenly about to be sick. “But then you still resurrect?”

Kenny frowned. “That wasn’t what I was setting out to cure. My safety net is way better than yours.”

Tweek stared at the razor in utter disbelief. “It’s weird to have you suddenly try to trick me into thinking I’m _not_ crazy.”

“Tweek, I’m never going to be able to prove it. It’s just like I can’t prove it to _anyone_ , but you’re wasting your time with every minute you spend in this place.”

“Aren’t you going to miss having someone who remembers?”

“Can’t miss what I didn’t really have to start out with, can I?”

Tweek clenched and unclenched his fists. “You know Damien can’t remember the resurrections, right? Craig went to see him. He’s completely full of shit.”

Kenny nodded, ignoring the tightening feeling in his chest, and grinned. “Yeah, of course I knew that. He was fun to mess around with, though.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Which part of what I’m saying?”

“All of it. I don’t really believe you killed yourself yesterday, and I don’t think you knew Damien didn’t really remember. You’re alone now, Kenny.”

Kenny gritted his teeth. “Yeah, it looks that way, doesn’t it?”

Tweek paused to stare at the ground uncertainly. “Thank you for… if you did help me.”

“Tweek, I promise you’re okay. You have my full blessing to leave this hospital.”

Tweek laughed weakly. “I thought leaving hospitals was your M.O.?”

“It is, and now you can be a part of dehospitalization. It’ll be better, Tweek.” Kenny smiled at him and stood up from his bed. “It’s a better world out there.”

“It kind of sounds like you’re actually saying goodbye,” Tweek responded in a weak voice. Kenny’s grin faltered.

“I want your life to be boring as hell, Tweek.”

Tweek pulled him into the tight hug that had originally been meant for Craig and buried his head in Kenny’s chest. Kenny was pretty sure either Tweek or he and Tweek cried quietly for a few seconds that might’ve lasted minutes. Tweek muttered a real “thank you” and pulled back. Kenny had to stare straight at the ground to make this situation as relaxed as possible.

They made eye contact for a few seconds, then Kenny forced a wide grin onto his face. “I’ll catch you later, then?” He asked slightly before planting another kiss on Tweek’s cheek and disappearing out of the hospital room.

“Bye, Kenny,” Tweek called after him in mild shock, and Kenny had to gulp down a strange woolen ball that had grown in the back of his throat.

 

*

 

The car had never had to fit so many people, but the five of them had never been as excited for something as they were for Tweek’s imminent discharge. Token reluctantly surrendered driving rights to Clyde on the trip back so Wendy could balance on his lap. Clyde had been bothering him for two years to drive Token’s car, anyway. He was going to have to let his friends try eventually.

“He doesn’t need any help getting packed?” Craig clarified again as the five of them lingered in the waiting room for Tweek to emerge. A nurse shook her head and held out a white baggie of medication.

“This should last him three days until he finds a psychiatrist out-patient. Tell him to call the hospital if he needs any refills on his medications.”

Craig grabbed the bag and nodded. Tweek had seemed perfectly fine all the times Craig had visited him in the last two weeks. He freaked out after fucking Kenny McCormick had shown up, but he had been better than ever since that day. It was finally time for Tweek to be free.

Clyde yelped loudly and, once again, pushed Jimmy out of his path to barge into Tweek and give him a warm hug. Craig leapt up to help steady Jimmy who, really, hadn’t needed to be pushed in Clyde’s trajectory. Jimmy swore to himself as he collected his balance, and Craig watched helplessly as Wendy and Token also surrounded Tweek with hugs and welcomes.

Craig was supposed to be the one welcoming him.

Token pulled back from a hug, gently directing Tweek’s shoulders to face him towards Craig, and Tweek practically knocked him over with the strength of his hug. Craig sighed in relief and buried his head in Tweek’s neck. Next to him, Jimmy awkwardly patted Tweek’s hair in a completely ignored form of greeting.

“I knew you’d get out soon!” Clyde said proudly, hoisting Tweek’s bag over his back as Token grabbed a suitcase. “Let’s go enjoy the real world, man!”

Tweek smiled hesitantly. “What was your plan?”

Clyde glanced around the others. “Video games?” He asked finally. Wendy wrinkled her nose, but Tweek nodded eagerly.

“Let’s do it.”

Tweek was mysteriously quiet for the ride home, but Clyde and Jimmy were more than enough to keep the conversation going on as Clyde drove. Tweek excused himself almost immediately when they pulled into Token’s home to make a phone call in the backyard. It was snowy, and he didn’t have a coat, but Token nodded and directed him through the back doors. Tweek stared at the phone in his palm like it couldn’t be real, but he set off through the doors quickly.

Token and Clyde set to work getting Super Smash Bros working on Token’s TV, and Craig leaned against the side of the couch in boredom. He growled at Jimmy warningly when Jimmy tried to take the seat next to him, but he stayed mostly silent. Tweek’s voice was entering the room distantly through the patio door, and Craig had his ears pricked to hear Tweek’s side of the conversation.

“ _Butters! ... Yeah, I got discharged today… Everything’s been better, yeah. … Yeah, I’m awfully happy to hear that too, Butters. Can you just…? Can you let Kenny know I say thanks? For real this time? … Yeah, Butters, I’m sure Kenny will be awfully happy to hear that, too… He’s not home, is he? … Okay, got it. … No, he doesn’t have to call me back… No, Butters, that’s really okay. I really don’t need that. … Yes, this is my cell phone number. You don’t need to give it to him. … Butters, seriously. Shut the fuck up. … No, don’t cry! That was a message from Kenny! … Yeah, Butters. I am talking to Kenny. This conversation can end any time now. … Okay, bye. … I love you too, Butters. Okay.”_

There was a long pause, and Craig was sure Tweek had hung up the phone, but then his voice came back. “ _I don’t really want to do that, Butters. … No, I have seen the Charlie Brown special. It’s just, y’know, Cartman might’ve cursed me? … Stan and Kyle agreed? Are you guys bribing them? What do you have they could possibly want? … Yeah, whatever. Happy Thanksgiving, Eric Cartman. Got it. … No, Wendy doesn’t want to come. … Yes, I asked her. … Okay, I’ll actually ask her then let you know she doesn’t want to come. … Yes, Butters. You are free to call me at this number. … Okay, I love you, too, Butters! Bye!”_

Tweek sounded irritated as he hung up the phone and hurried back into the warmth of Token’s house.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Eric Cartman?” Wendy asked doubtfully.

Tweek frowned at Token. “Buy thicker walls.”

“I’ll add it to the grocery list.”

“Does Butters say “I love you” every time you try to hang up?” Clyde asked with a big grin on his face. Tweek nodded grimly.

“Wendy, do you want to come to CCI the Wednesday before Thanksgiving?”

“So, like, the day before? Not really.”

Tweek nodded. “I assumed so. I’ll text Butters.”

Wendy looked surprised. “You’re really all going? To visit Eric Cartman?”

“Butters is amazingly convincing when he won’t hang up the phone without crying.”

Wendy nodded sympathetically. “I’m certainly not going. You guys can enjoy your in-patient reunion without the staff.” Token snorted.

“Wish him a happy Thanksgiving from me. By that I mean punch him in the face.”

“I’ve already done that,” Craig added in a hurt voice, gesturing for Tweek to join him on the couch. Ever since Tweek had his major dissociative episode after Kenny’s visit, Craig had been able to visit him every day again. He just couldn’t risk who a lonely Tweek would turn to. Kenny clearly only had the capacity to hurt.

To Craig’s dismay, Tweek had tried to defend Kenny’s meddling a few times afterwards, but Craig always shut down the gratitude. He had worsened Tweek’s condition by a million. Nothing Kenny did could make that right. It was really the only time Tweek’s delusional side resurfaced, and it scared Craig.

Tweek dropped down on the couch and rested his head on Craig’s shoulder. “I’m going to kick your ass at this game, you know?”

“Please. You’re months out of practice.”

“Jesus, has it been months? Fuck. Wait and see, Craig.”

Craig did wait and see as Tweek decimated the lot of them in game after game before Tweek threw his controller down victoriously and declared, “There was nothing to do there but play video games!” and Wendy burst out laughing.

Token nudged Wendy. “You knew he’d been practicing? You should’ve warned us!”

“I didn’t know Hills-Barnes had a set, too,” Wendy muttered defensively, but she grinned at Tweek again.

“It really brought the quality of life way up,” Tweek snorted. “And also was possibly the only time none of us cared about killing Cartman.”

Wendy patted her heart fondly. “The great equalizer.”

Craig nudged Tweek. “C’mon. Now that we know you’ve been practicing, I can stop taking it easy on you.”

“You literally sweated.”

Clyde and Jimmy roared with laughter. “Craig sweats when he drives too fast.”

“I get excited!” Craig clutched his controller to his chest. “Give me one more shot, and I can kick Tweek’s ass.”

Tweek smirked and grabbed his controller. “It’s really, really funny how you can’t.”

Craig kept insisting that he only needed one more game until Token and Clyde both threw their controllers down. “Okay, Craig. Let him have this one.”

“I really only need one more game.”

“Craig, I’m just so much better at this game than you.”

“Switch games, Craig!” Token cried in exasperation. “Or let us finally eat fucking dinner! Just give up on this one!”

“Oh, shit, is it dinnertime?”

“You’ve been playing for _hours_ ,” Wendy accentuated the word. Craig wasn’t sure when she became the kind of girlfriend who was willing to sit around and watch her boyfriend play video games, but he was proud as hell of Token. That, or Wendy had spent too much time around her patients and only knew the world of hanging out with total freaks all day. Either way, it was a win for Token, and Craig wouldn’t question it. “I thought that outside of a hospital, boys would care about normal things like sex and eating, but you really just play video games all the time, don’t you?”

“Tweek cared about sex in the hospital. Didn’tcha, Tweek?” Clyde said promptingly, and Craig turned his face away so Tweek wouldn’t see him snickering into his shoulder.

“Not my fault I didn’t realize how strict the rules were.”

“We had to keep the door open at all times,” Craig outright gasped for breath in his effort to keep from laughing. Tweek elbowed him again and succeeded in dislodging all the laughter Craig had pent up. Clearly this was a story his friends had heard multiple times, and Tweek was actually pretty okay with that. It was a hilarious story.

Shame he didn’t feel like having a flashback to it now.

“I caught Stan and Kyle _so many times_ ,” Wendy said in a hushed voice. She looked traumatized by the thought of it. “Do you know how small Kyle is? Er, was? But, genuinely, still is?”

Tweek nodded because that seemed to be the only way to describe the size Kyle felt comfortable at. It could be lightly deemed _better than before_ , but the kid would be considered vastly underweight by anyone who hadn’t seen him a few months ago.

Token, Clyde and Jimmy just laughed lightly, and Craig forced himself off the couch to find Token’s drawer of delivery menus. “We’re doing Chinese, yeah?”

“I kind of want Italian,” Wendy whined, and Token nodded in his obligatory agreement.

“I’ve never ordered anything but Chinese and pizza, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“Pizza is Italian!”

“Not _real_ pizza,” Craig insisted as he defensively clutched a Chinese food menu. “I’m going to get chicken and broccoli. Decide what you want now.”

“Bitch,” Wendy mumbled, and Clyde cracked up.

 

*

 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Eric Cartman,” Kyle muttered sarcastically as he and Stan strode up to Tweek in the parking lot. “Why the fuck are we here?”

“Butters said he loved me then cried,” Tweek responded with a shrug.

Stan’s mouth fell open. “Asshole did that to us, too!”

“What about you, man?” Kyle prompted. “Butters said you were all better on the phone.”

“I’m still anxious as fuck, but yeah. Essentially all better.”

“Here’s to “essentially”,” Kyle agreed with a nod, and Stan struggled to hide his frown.

A third car finally pulled into the lot, and Butters jumped out of the passenger’s seat eagerly. “Stan, Kyle, Tweek! It sure is great to see you guys!”

Kenny nervously slid out of the driver’s seat and joined Butters as they walked over to the others. Kenny had his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and his shoulders slouched against the cold, and he didn’t look exactly thrilled by the idea of seeing any of them.

“Butters,” Stan greeted warmly and pulled the smaller boy into a hug. “You look great.”

“You guys do, too! I was awful glad to hear about your release, Tweek,” Butters added with a smile and glanced knowingly at Kenny, who tightened his jaw and stared at the pavement.

“What’s up, Kenny?” Stan asked in the nicest voice he could, and Kenny forced a wolfish smile onto his face.

“Sah, brother?”

Stan rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Kyle glanced at Stan like this validated every point he had made about Kenny.

“Hey, Kenny,” Tweek added in a small voice. Kenny’s face melted into a slight smile.

“Glad you’re out, man. Let’s go cheer up the Fatass, shall we?”

Butters nodded happily, probably guessing the nicknames were the best level of excitement he could hope for, and bounced towards the hospital entrance. He linked arms with Kyle and pulled him with him for a rapid conversation, leaving Tweek lingering behind with Stan and Kenny.

“I want to do this so little,” Stan admitted, and Kenny nodded understandingly.

“Butters is really excited about it.”

“What are you? His boyfriend? I don’t think I’d visit Cartman even if Kyle begged.”

“You are visiting Cartman,” Kenny pointed out pragmatically. “Because Butters begged. He’s a convincing kid. For the record, I’m more like a slightly less fucked up version of his father.”

Stan’s eyebrows shot up. “His father must be really fucked up,” he joked.

“Must be,” Kenny agreed in a dark voice before blinking angrily as they entered the fluorescent lighting of CCI. “God, I don’t want to do this.”

Butters and Kyle had already given their I.D.s to the ashy-haired nurse who was checking them in. Kenny pouted obnoxiously as he, Stan, and Tweek approached and dutifully pulled out their wallets to find their I.D.s.

“It’s so sweet of you guys to visit him for the holidays,” the nurse cried in excitement, and Tweek forced a plastic smile to his face. Glancing around, he noticed Kenny, Stan and Kyle had all done the same. This nurse’s enthusiasm for Cartman was contagious (or, at least, something they didn’t want to ruin).

Butters grinned at her warmly as she directed him to Cartman’s room and ushered the boys down the hallway. Tweek stepped back in surprise as they entered the room. It was disgusting compared to any hospital room he had been in before, but Cartman looked like he was doing _well_. The freak was glowing as he welcomed his friends into the room.

“Aw, hey guys! So nice of you all to visit me!”

“Hey, Eric!”

Kenny stepped forward and begrudgingly clapped hands with Cartman. “Cartman.”

“Kenny.”

Stan and Kyle entered the room without a word of greeting, and Tweek waved at Cartman nervously.

“You’re out?” Cartman asked rudely.

“Almost a week now,” Tweek said quietly. Kenny frowned noticeably but didn’t say anything.

Butters filled in for him, though, and Tweek could have sworn he saw Kenny wince. “You took your time with that, huh, Tweek? Kenny said you were fine thr-.”

“ _Butters. How many times have we talked about you defending me_?” Kenny hissed.

“Right. Sorry, Kenny.”

Kyle and Stan exchanged a Look, but Stan just glanced back at Cartman with clear interest. “You look like you’re doing great, fatso.”

“I am doing great, Stanley. Too great for your little quips to get to me, I’m afraid.” Cartman said smugly and leaned himself upwards more. “I fucked one of the nurses.”

“No way!” Kenny exclaimed. “I tried to do that so much! It’s impossible!”

“Wendy or Al?” Kyle asked in disgust.

“Both!” Kenny raised his hand for a high five, which Cartman eagerly returned. “Not the chick who checked us in, yeah?”

“Heidi?”

“Fuck, dude!” Kenny pulled Cartman into a hug. “Who knew miracles were possible? Halle-fucking-lujah! Was that your virginity?”

“No, it was not my virginity!” Cartman exclaimed indignantly, but Kenny just grinned widely.

“Our monstrous baby’s became a monstrous man,” Kenny cooed.

Kyle was fully gaping at Cartman. “Miracles _are_ possible,” he repeated.

“She thinks I’m just misunderstood,” Cartman added proudly, and Kenny roared with laughter.

“I don’t think this comparison can count,” Kenny added. “Wendy was smart, and Al was ethical.”

“You were trying to sleep with Al?” Stan asked in surprise, as Kyle let out an “ _Ahh”_ of realization.

“Really any nurse. Al was just my favorite. Did you know he’s a big LGBTQ figure now? I knew that dude was awesome. He calls himself Big Gay Al.” Kenny shook his head fondly. “What a dude.”

“I feel like I’m on a reunion tour,” Kyle whispered to Stan loudly enough for Tweek to catch it. “Of a band I never wanted to be in.”

Stan nodded imperceptibly, and Tweek snorted. They both glared at him defensively, but Tweek just flashed them a grin.

“Does Nurse Heidi get your full patient records?” Kyle demanded, and Cartman shook his head joyfully.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality is real if you threaten them!”

“Oh, so it’s not a miracle. It’s just you being an asshole again.”

“Yeah, totally. But it’s _awesome_.” Cartman shot him a warning glare. “You better not tell her anything.”

“I have _never_ been afraid of you.”

“Let him have this one, Kyle,” Kenny said peacefully. Tweek’s eyes narrowed against his will. The relaxed smile, the dead eyes. He was clearly high on a lot of the benzos Tweek was currently being weaned off of. One glance at a shame-faced Butters was enough to tell Tweek that their whole house must have been aware of this addiction. “Cartman never gets a win.”

“He’s lying to that nurse!”

“Omitting the truth,” Cartman corrected.

“It’s a lot of truth to omit!”

“Kenny, you can probably fuck the new nurse they hired,” Cartman said, redirecting the attention to Kenny. Kenny raised an eyebrow with interest. “He’s definitely gay.”

Kenny’s interest sank into an expression of horrified understanding. “What country did he forge his nursing degree from?”

“U.S. this time,” Cartman snorted. “He’s getting smarter.”

“It’s a reunion tour,” Kyle hissed to Stan again, and Stan elbowed him.

The conversation was as unpleasant as Tweek could ever imagine it being. Kenny being high and Cartman being in a good mood turned out to be worse company than the two of them in bad moods. It was so frustrating to see the two monsters on top of the world.

Kyle could only handle the conversation for an hour before he and Stan disengaged, but Tweek waited quietly with Butters and Kenny for their entire visit. He should have left when Stan and Kyle did, but he felt like he was waiting for something he didn’t know was coming until Kenny touched Butters’ arm and muttered, “I’m going for a smoke in the parking lot. You planning on going soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out real soon, Kenny!”

“Bye, poor boy,” Cartman grunted, and Kenny gave him an undeserved nod of respect. He paused as he brushed past Tweek and motioned for the other boy to join him.

“Bye, Cartman,” Tweek gasped out as he rushed to join Kenny in the hallway.

He stepped away just in time to hear Cartman mutter, “Who the fuck is Tweek anyway?” to Butters.

Kenny waved to Nurse Heidi with a knowing smile as they left the hospital, and Tweek didn’t say anything as he struggled to keep up with Kenny’s long strides. Kenny had a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth before they were out the doors, and Tweek wrinkled his nose, preparing for the smell of tobacco he had hated so much on all the patients at Hills-Barnes.

It didn’t come, and Tweek widened his eyes. “Kenny, is that a joint?”

Kenny shrugged. “I just said I was going out for a smoke. It’s not my fault if the cigarette companies’ marketing has invaded your brain. I can’t afford a cigarette addiction.”

“But weed’s fine?”

“Weed’s worth it.”

Tweek shook his head in disgust as Kenny offered him the joint, and Kenny just shrugged and took another long drag. “I thought you were at the hospital for drug addiction.”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted to be _treated_ for it.”

“Kenny, drugs are bad.”

“M’kay,” Kenny snorted. The sudden gust of air sent tendrils of smoke out from his joint in an image that Tweek hated to admit was incredibly… pretty. “Butters will drive me back. I’m safe.”

“That’s good,” Tweek responded lamely.

They were quiet for a little bit as Kenny smoked and Tweek struggled to summon the courage to ask what he knew he had to ask. “You die and come back, don’t you?”

“It appears that way, doesn’t it?” Kenny asked, staring at the joint like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

“Has it happened since… you gave me that thing?”

Kenny frowned at the joint like it had asked him the question he didn’t want to hear. “I overdosed once,” he admitted finally. “It got Henrietta out of my bed for good, though.”

“I’m sorry no one remembers.”

Kenny’s lips turned down, but he sounded completely apathetic when he spoke. “That’s okay. It makes it easier to not have to explain what happened.”

“I’m sorry I can’t remember anymore.”

Kenny glanced at Tweek, and a small smile played at his lips. “Are you?”

Tweek laughed, and Kenny joined him. “Not really, but… I’ll always believe you. If you want to talk to someone about it.”

Kenny nudged him like he was trying to put all his thanks into that gesture. “I put a lot of effort into making this not your problem, but thank you, Tweek.”

“Yeah, thank you.”

Kenny put out his joint and stared down at Tweek hard, and Tweek gulped and wondered vaguely if this counted as cheating before Kenny’s lips crashed down on his, and Tweek was responding before his brain fully registered that it had switched from about to happen to currently happening.

Kenny pulled back and planted a kiss on Tweek’s forehead. “Right. Now that’s done, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tweek responded shakily.

“It was a pleasure knowing you, Tweek Tweak.”

This was all happening way too fast for Tweek’s brain to register what was happening, and he was the sober one. In his peripheral vision, he could see Butters exiting the hospital, and he managed to choke out, “Back at you, Kenny McCormick.”

“Well, I thought he liked that an awful lot! He seemed like he was doing really well!” Butters exclaimed as he joined Tweek and Kenny. “Aw, fuck, Kenny, do I have to drive us back?”

Kenny batted his eyelashes sweetly. “It’s only safe.”

Butters frowned. “Tweek, wanna join us for lunch?”

Tweek snuck a look at Kenny then glanced sadly back at his car. “No, thanks, Butters. I have to meet my friends.”

Butters nodded understandingly and hugged Tweek. “Bye, Tweek! I hope I hear from you real soon!”

He bounced off back to the car, and Kenny smirked at Tweek before following Butters quickly. “Bye, Tweek.”


End file.
